


Justice

by OrUpToTheThrone



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 90,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrUpToTheThrone/pseuds/OrUpToTheThrone
Summary: James is a 17 year old mixed Maori boy who would rather be anywhere than Hawkins. Finding out why he should be even more scared of Hawkins than he already is flips all his predispositions out the window, especially when it comes to meeting new people. Based after season 2, before 3, starting late January before Starcourt.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Everyone, Billy Hargrove/Original Character(s), Billy Hargrove/Reader, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Original Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	1. A Rough Start: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Pro tip: I highly suggest listening to 80's synths or even the Stranger Things score while reading. One day I'll make my own playlist....

1

God, I was already missing it. 

I thought I’d like a small town. We had small towns back home that were cute, cozy. Close to the mountains and the sea. A lovely mix of rural and industrial, paved roads, and a reasonable drinking age. Hawkins fucking Indiana was not that. Sure, it was green like back home. Sure, even if the drinking age was unreasonable, you could still swipe a stubbie pretty easy, but everything about it screamed cock-up with a side of uncomfortable encounters with suburban, ratbaggy, muppet pakeha.

I don’t hate white people. Pakeha in New Zealand weren’t the worst; sure, you’d get called a slur now and then, but compared to backwoods United States? I’d been called the n-word once per gas station on the drive from the West Coast to Hawkins. I’m not black.

Even if from the surface Hawkins shared some similarities with North Shore, there was a bad feeling that accompanied me once I entered that town. It swarmed me as I walked from my mum’s old blue wagon we got in Los Angeles and, suffocating, followed me into our damned farm house. Maybe it was just the cold. The gritty, peeling rust door shaved off a few flakes of paint as my arm bumped into it, trying to wrestle the brass lock open. It shook like quaker leaves in a light breeze. We didn’t have quaking aspens in New Zealand.

The lock suddenly gave way after a minute of shaking, and I briefly wondered if I had broken it before deciding that I didn’t care and strutting into the house. Mum was at the round walnut table in the living room, drinking some gumboot or red leaf, the dwindling sun illuminating her wild brown hair. She started when I slammed the damn door closed and plastered a too-wide grin as I dropped my book-filled navy backpack to the floor.

“Te Ta! How was school?” her voice was high and grating. I didn’t face her, turning down to my bag to grab my homework out.

“It was alright.” It fucking sucked. My face pinched as I cut myself on some loose paper in the bag.  
“Mum, you can’t call me that in public, okay? We don’t know people here yet,” I grumbled.

“Te Tangaroa, does this look like downtown?” I could feel her glare from behind my bag.

“Mum, I’m sorry-” I wasn’t really sorry, though I looked up at her to emphasize what I was saying, “-but I don’t want there to be an accident, mum, you know how Americans are.” I looked back down. Mum just groaned.

“You’re father wouldn’t agree with throwing away your name like that just for some Americans-” she started, but I stopped her fast.

“-NO, mum, he would understand why we have to take precautions. He would understand more than you.” It was a bit of a low blow. Mum wasn’t Maori, she was pakeha, but no matter how much she wished against it, I had ended up looking like our dad. They hadn’t tried for another kid.

I looked back up to see her glaring at me again.

“Listen, mum, dad is going by George for work, yes?” Mum sank a bit from her agitated position, still clearly upset, but I got the feeling that it wasn’t because she had to call me by an english name.

“They wouldn’t like it if he went by Hori Te Koha. They wouldn’t.” I stood up with my homework.

“Sweetheart, we kept your father’s last name. It’s not like we can pretend you’re white. You don’t look it.” She stared at me blankly.

“Don’t I know it, mum.”

I walked out of the room.

“I am not calling you James, Te Ta!” she called after me.

“You won’t even say my full real name!” I countered, reaching the kitchen and setting my shit down. “Goddamn idiot,” I grumbled, setting my elbows by the stove and messing up my newly cut but still impressively curly hair. I could hear mum saw something snarky about heathen gods before I sighed loudly and, walking away from the stove, grabbed the blue fridge door open and looked inside.

“Mum. You didn’t go shopping for groceries?” I called, agitated.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Te Ta. If you wanted food you could have gotten some on the way back from school.” her voice added to the uncomfortable feeling of Hawkins swirling around the house.

“If you ask me to make dinner, then I shouldn’t have to shop for groceries if I don’t know we don’t have any, mum,” I growled a bit. Mum gasped from the other room. I could hear her stomp her way through the hallway to me.

“How dare you give me that attitude, shitstain.” Shitstain was a new word she had probably learned on the drive over.

I looked over to see her wretched expression knifing it’s way into me. I took a step back.

“Mum, please be reasonable here. I’m cooking, I’ve been doing the chores and I’ve started school, can you give me a-”

“-A what, Te Ta? A what. Tell me-” 

“-a BREAK, mum.”

The room went silent for a bit. Suddenly, mum raised her chin and looked down at me from her lashes.

“I’m going to have to tell your father about how disrespectful you’ve been to me today.” 

I didn’t move.

“Okay,” I muttered. She turned and went back to her tea as quickly as she’d stomped in. I slumped against the stove again and looked up at the cracked ceiling. I tried thinking about something else. Did they have a record store in Hawkins? I think they do, I already asked someone that, I thought, sighing again.

I shouldn’t have said shit. Dammit.

I looked out the singular window in the kitchen, just above the sink and a few feet from the stove. The fields were flatter than the girls in Cosmopolitan. Hell, the entire town was. No amount of eerie trees could hide that.


	2. The First Few

2

Okay, I lied. I did like the trees. They were very nice. 

They were also very threatening, but I shouldn’t say anything. Once you got into town and onto pavement, you started missing them more. Especially with all of the concrete and ice. At least the high school was primarily brick, but it’s flatness molded into the surrounding asphalt, the doors seemingly opening into a slot machine instead of a building.

The inside wasn’t much better, but at least I could breathe. If only there weren’t so many students packed like beers into such a small space. On my way to my locker, I could catch people taking glances at my appearance. Yes, a newcomer in a small town was a rarity, but a non-white? Unheard of. Once to my locker, I took three minutes trying to remember the random code to unlock it. I was getting ready to put my ear to the door before feeling the soft click of the dial under my fingertips. Exasperated, I snatched it open and placed the bag from my shoulder inside, pausing as I stared into the now filled locker. I could feel a few lingering eyes, but I truly didn’t want to care. I leaned against the frame with one hand as I thought. Yesterday was not great. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have bee-

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the locker next to me.

“Hey, James, right?” 

I turned at the male voice.

“Yeah, that would be me,” I returned, painting a small smile on my face. The guy was a few inches shorter than I was, with slight curls, brown hair much longer than mine. If only mum had known that in America it was in style for guys to have long curly hair.

“You’ve got an accent, man? That’s so cool,” the guy grinned back. I tried hard not to shove him off immediately.

“I guess.” I didn’t feel like putting effort into this conversation. My hair was standing up, and I was starting to get nervous.

“My name’s Edward. I think we have first class together; Mrs. Bailey, right? English?” 

Edward spoke too fast.

“Mate, you’ve gotta slow the fuck down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” I tried, but he just looked scandalized.

“Strong language for a blackie in a new town,” he replied casually. I knew that he didn’t mean it as a threat, but it sure as hell sounded like one.

“What in hell.” I growled at him.

“What?” Edward responded, laughing. “Just joking. Say what you like, as long as it’s not in front of a Wheeler, Smith or Johnson,” he continued.

“No, you just called me a blackie. I’m not black.” I had nothing wrong towards black folk, but the way that they treated them in the U.S.? I didn’t want to seem like one.

“What? You look like one, man,” he looked surprised. I was surprised too. Surprised that I was putting up with this.

“No. I’m from New Zealand. I’m native New Zealander. Maori? I’m Maori,” I tried. He looked stunned.

“Maori? Like Pacific Islander?” It looked like my voice was going straight through the dipstick’s ears. I scowled at him. 

“That explains the accent. Sorry, man, you look at least part black.” Edward had this look on his face like everything was fine. To be honest, he was going about it better than expected. 

“Whatever, ‘man’.” I grabbed a notepad and a book from my locker before closing it in a very not calm way.

“Hey, my friends and I are doing a study session after school today. Would you be interested in that? I know you’re coming in halfway through the year, so I figured you might want to know where everyone else is paced at in class,” Edward rambled as I started walking away. Right. It was almost February. They had threatened to hold me back a year because of how late we had moved, but my near straight A’s from before had helped convince them otherwise.

“It’s just me and, like, three other people? They’re quiet, quieter than me, I’m pretty annoying in comparison,” he went on, and I stopped processing his words. He’s putting in a lot of effort to be friends, I thought. I sighed inside as I turned my head back while still walking.

“You know what, okay,” I interrupted him mid-sentence. Edward looked delighted.

“Sweet, man! We’re meeting by Benny’s, but I guess it’s not Benny’s anymore, it’s Earl’s-”

“-Fine, I’ll meet you guys there,” I tried, then turned around back to class. 

“Where’s New Zealand? You sound Australian. Is it in Australia? Have you seen a kangaroo? Do they have alligators in New Zealand?” Edward just would not stop. I humored him anyway.

“New Zealand is separate from Australia; on it’s own but nearby. I have not seen a kangaroo. I think you mean crocodiles, Australia has crocodiles, but we don’t have predators except for humans in New Zealand.” I tried speaking as monotone as possible to bore Edward. It didn’t work.

“No predators? Does that mean there’s no snakes? Or dogs? Or crocodiles?”

“Yes, I just said that.”

“Do you have any animals at all?”

“Yes. We have several kinds of birds that don't fly-”

“Like penguins?”

“No, not really-”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me finish, would you? They don’t exactly swim, and New Zealand isn’t the arctic. Birds still have fluffy feathers and still eat seeds in New Zealand.”

“No way.”

“We do.”

“That’s so cool, I wish we had flightless birds.”

“If you did, they’d all die. Ours are flightless only because there aren’t predators.”

“That’s cool, man!” Edward exclaimed. Before he could ask more, I held up a hand.

“This is class, right? I’ll talk to you later.” I walked through the door we had stopped in front of, Edward following close behind.

As much as I disliked how annoying Edward was, he was slightly endearing. I found myself looking forward to talking to him again after school. The day was really dragging. No one else tried to speak to me through all of English, shop, lunch, maths, or chemistry. In chemistry, I sat next to a girl named Nancy Wheeler. For an in-class activity I had to talk to her, but our sentences were more like phrases and our phrases more like words. Once in a while I caught her looking surprised when I did something correct. I remembered that Edward had said not to say any shit in front of a Wheeler. I wondered if that included Nancy, but I didn’t want to find out. 

What I did want to find out was where Benny’s, or Earl’s, was. Despite being cold, there weren't any clouds in the sky. They were probably swept away by the strong winds in the area, and walking back to mum’s blue station wagon with just an abnormally thin windbreaker was rough. I wished I had worn my leather jacket instead. I had left it, mostly because I didn’t want to look too punk my first week. My hands immediately chilled as I took them out of my jean pockets, fumbling with the wagon’s keys before yanking the door open, throwing my bag in the back, and shutting it as soon as my feet left the asphalt. I shuddered, hugging myself as the windows fogged up. I could see my breath like I was smoking a fag. Damn, it’s cold. I couldn't see out of my windows anymore, so I stuffed the key into the car, foot slamming into the clutch like my life depended on it. It felt like it did.

“HEAT, goddamnit, fuck-” I muttered, hands scrambling for the read button. I then scrambled for the air, turning it all the way up before-

“FUCKING HELL!” I shouted, an icy blast hitting my face. I immediately turned the air down to low, giving it time to heat. It only ever got this cold in the New Zealand mountains, as far as I knew. 

I was startled out of my shaking misery by a light tapping at my passengers window. I took a while thinking about whether I really wanted to roll the window down in this weather or not, but whoever had tapped decided for me by opening the door and throwing themselves in the seat beside me, fast as I could hope for.

“Sorry, man, I forgot that you probably don’t know where Benny’s is-” it was Edward.

“Fucking hell.”My grumbling didn’t reach him.

“-I could ride with you? Jessica’s taking my car, I can give you directions-” he was hugging his bag to his chest.

“-OKAY, man. Sure. Fine.” 

Edward threw his bag in the back. I scrunched my nose up at the thought of driving with Edward in the car. At least I’d find out where Banny’s, or Benny’s, was. I looked at Edward. He was wearing a bright purple and teal windbreaker, much thicker than mine. Probably had down stuffing. I turned away from the eyesore and put the brake down, shifting into reverse. The windows had begun to defog from the vents warming up. I kept my feet on the clutch and brake, deciding to wait for the fog to evaporate, and Edward took the opportunity to talk.

“So, those birds that can’t fly…” Edward’s questions continued until the windows cleared, then until I pulled out of the parking lot, and continued as I started crossing the town to Benny’s. I found out immediately that Edward was awful at giving directions. He would say right, but not mean right as in right, but as in correct, or he wouldn’t give me the direction we were going at all. By the time we were two minutes from the diner, I was exasperated as hell.

“Turn onto Randolph lane, then it should be-”

“Which way.”

“Right, then left-”

“Got it.” 

If Edward would tell I was tired of him talking, he didn’t show it. I looked over at him when we finally stopped in front of the place. He looked as bright as ever. I made an effort to glare at him, but he just smiled brighter. He looked out the dash, then suddenly looked surprised.

“Oh. I guess it’s Tiffany’s now?” He questioned. I looked out too, and sure enough, the sign said Tiffany’s Kitchen.

“Used to be Benny’s Burgers, then Benny died, then his friend Earl got it and the food quality went down. Nothing against Earl, but he ain’t a cook. People started going less after what happened. I guess someone else bought it recently,” Edward explained. 

What the hell is wrong with this place.

“Um, okay,” I responded. We sat silently for all of three seconds, then Edward was out the door and dashing into the place. Without his bag. I just sat there, watching as he paused by the now open door of Tiffany’s, and beckoning for me to come out too. Groaning, I complied, grabbing my bag and his from the back and bending to get out of the wagon before slamming the door and locking it behind me. Edward grinned to high heaven as I approached, bolting away as soon as I got through the door. 

I looked around. It seemed okay, there was only a trucker at the coffee bar and a small family at a booth to the right by the windows. On the left, there were two girls and a guy at a six-seater. One of them waved Edward over, smiling politely at me as I followed. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel too uncomfortable. Edward sat next to one of the girls, a blonde, the black haired guy to his right. I sat across from him next to the second girl, the brunette. I edged my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor by the booth end.

“Jess, Carol, Ethan, this is James,” Edward gestured to me.

“Hey,” I shrugged. The blonde girl smiled.

“You’ve got an accent,” she grinned. I couldn’t find malice in it but it sure as hell sounded scary.  
“Carol, going after another guy? How the hell did you get away from Tommy to study? I didn’t expect you here today,” Edward said snarkily, but teasingly. Carol laughed, bending over the guy between them to smack his shoulder. The guy looked very uncomfortable. 

So, the blonde was Carol. Brunette was Jess? 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Jessica, or Jess,” the brunette offered when he looked at her, holding out her hand. He shook it. Her hands were cold.

“Gawd, your hands are warm,” she giggled. My shoulders tensed a bit, then relaxed. They were just being friendly.

“Cummon, guys, let’s not flirt with the new guy, yeah?” The black-haired guy, Ethan, was quiet. I liked that. Edward laughed but nodded, picking up a menu and looking back to me.

“We order before we study, so don’t pull out the workload yet,” he laughed, noticing me eye my bag. I watched his eyes glaze over the menu before nodding and shoving it over the table in my direction.

“I know what I want. I’ll get a burger and fries, since we haven’t come back since Earl’s cooking. The burger will be a good judge of everything else, I think.” 

“Edward, you aren’t exactly a good judge of anything, man,” Jess put her elbows on the table, staring him down comedically. 

“Honey, then my taste in girls must suck dick,” Edward bit back sarcastically. He got hit again from across the table, but Jess laughed as she did it. What? I thought. OH, I realized. Edward recognized the confusion in my eyes, so he laced his fingers through the hand Jess had just hit him with.

“We’re a thing,” he smiled cheesily. “For now.”

Jessica quickly took her hand out of his and smacked him again. “You goddamn prick.”

Ethan groaned from across the table. Everyone laughed at him. I suddenly felt really nice, the nicest I’d felt since I’d moved here. I felt comfortable.

The conversation trickled off into Jess and Carol talking about something that was a little too graphic for the family on the other side of the diner, and eventually they looked uncomfortable to leave. No one commented on it. Ethan and Edward seemed fine with the conversation, once in a while adding something or two or emphasizing how good someone at school was in bed. My face definitely heated up a few times, but I don’t think anyone noticed, and as the dialogue wore on, I had to stop myself from asking questions about others at school. I didn’t really care, so I shouldn’t be asking too many questions. Once a waitress got the courage to walk over, I ordered a house soup bowl. I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for the American grease on everything else. Carol got grilled cheese, Jess got a strawberry shake and salad, Ethan got a waffle, and Edward got his burger and fries. I tried not to stare too hard at how massive and ugly his burger was when it came. Yeah, I ate a lot, I could probably easily down three of them and still want dinner, but it just looked like ratshit. When I gave Edward a disgusted look, he rolled his eyes and smiled into his bun. I watched his eyes widen, and knew that he was in love.

“God-” he choked, after he swallowed some. “This is good shit. This is good shit!” He smacked the table. I laughed at him and took a dip into my soup. I think it was Italian wedding soup, and it was pretty good and fresh for a burger joint. The group got pretty quiet as we all dug in. After everyone had gotten halfway through their meals and commentary on the food, the conversation started back up again. 

“So,” Ethan ventured. “James, what do you like to do? What did you do in New Zealand?”

I assumed that Edward had told them where I was from. I think I’d only told him so far. 

“Well, I worked at a restaurant before we moved,” I thought, my memory inspired by the surroundings.

“Not like work, like interests,” Edward added on.

“Oh, I do genuinely like to cook. I did some chef work in school too,” I carried on.

“That’s real cool,” Carol smiled. Edward swatted at her leg.

“No flirting, Carol! You’re practically engaged!” 

“Damn, am I not allowed to be friends with him?” Carol joked, shoving Ethan into Edward.

“Don’t bring me into this!” Ethan wailed. I decided to continue.

“I liked diving for paua back there too, and grilling that up,” I smiled in thought. Edward interrupted it.

“What’s paua?”

“Like abalone. Actually, I think it is abalone.”

“New Zealand sounds so cool, man, why’d you move?’ Edward questioned.

“Mum wanted the American dream and dad wanted something new.” I grimaced. Mum and her stupid dreams. 

“I’ll have to try your cooking sometime, James,” Jess interrupted. Edward groaned loudly.

“Stop flirting with James!’

“What? I can’t be friends with him?” Jess dramatized, mimicking Carol.

The night slowly began to fade into the four of them taking friendly jabs at each other. It took another half hour after we finished our food before we got out our homework, and another two hours to get through a good chunk of it. I was surprised at how behind the English and chemistry was to my classes, but for some reason, the maths class put me off guard for the opposite thing. 

“I guess math isn’t your thing?” Edward asked after I struggled on an odd question for a few minutes.

“I guess not,” I admitted, flabbergasted at how difficult the solving process was that was required for the unit we were on. 

I was sorry to say goodbye to everyone after wrapping most of the work up. I kind of liked Edwards' friends, and like I said before, Edward was growing on me too. I hadn’t really planned on making friends in Hawkins.


	3. Surprise, You're In Hicktown

The next day was Saturday, and I was lucky enough that the wind wasn’t adding to the chill today. The skies were overcast and dim. It was the perfect day to explore the town, get to know the shops, maybe even find an ice cream parlour. I got up nice and early so that I could get away without eating breakfast with mum and dad. I wasn’t a morning person, but getting up at 5:00 sure beat dealing with mum being snotty and dad being threatening. I also wasn’t allowed to drink coffee. I wanted coffee. There wasn’t nearly as much coffee in New Zealand as there was in America, and mum was very adverse from drinking “American cunt shit”. 

The brisk air felt nice. I could swear that morning air tastes different. My keys dangled from my jeans as I zipped up a thicker windbreaker than the one I had put on the day before. I still didn’t want to wear my leather jacket; couldn’t risk looking like a punk my first day in town. The car door nearly froze to my bare fingers as I fingered it open, and I rushed inside nearly as fast as I had the day before, going through the motions of pushing the clutch and brake, shifting into reverse and waiting for the windows to quit fogging up. While I waited, I observed the glovebox, which looked cracked open a tad. Immediately worried, I scrambled, leaning off the clutch too fast and causing the car to kick forward a bit, but I ignored it and opened the glovebox all the way. There sat my Pall Malls and a lighter. The packaging looked unopened, so I sat back, suddenly tired again. Mum didn’t like me doing a lot of things, and that included drinking coffee, reading porn mags, and smoking fags. If she caught a glimpse of the fags in my glovebox there’d be hell to pay. Calmed down, I slammed the thing shut and let out a long sigh. Then restarted the car. Once my vision was adequately unimpaired by foggy glass, I gassed the wagon out of the driveway and down the rocky road to the town center.

Hitting the town was… somewhat quaint. Not exactly my style, but it might suit my last year and a half of high school. Some of the shops looked a little more modern, more colorful, but a lot of the bigger buildings were jarringly bland. I stopped by a small coffee shop on the edge of town before I ventured further, grabbing an iced one from the adorable old lady working there who looked at me like I was crazy. Once again, there was only a trucker or two at the bar of this place. They didn’t bother looking my way. Happily sipping my cold coffee, I walked back to the wagon and pulled out of the lot. As I drove by the record store I’d been to a few days ago, I strayed deeper into the town than I had before, catching sight of a large construction area that looked like a mall. So, Hawkins is getting a bit more with the times? I thought, driving around it before exploring the other sides of town. There were three diners that looked particularly interesting, a sweetshop I knew immediately I wouldn’t be allowed to walk into, a rental store, and a couple more oddball buildings with oddities like antiques. What caught my eye was the arcade. The thing was eye candy compared to the rest of Hawkins; the building was still a bit old, but the lights told me everything I needed to know. I decided I’d walk in after exploring the town further. 

Building after building, I got bored very fast. I checked my watch after a while; it read 8:06. I still had a whole day ahead of me. I knew I was wasting copious amounts of gas, so I parked by the new mall complex and decided to walk the rounds I had driven by before to waste more time. By now, there were a few groups of kids from the nearby schools wandering around, some adults doing their grocery or other rounds, and an older man walking to a convenience store. The record store was open by now; it opened at 7:30, the arcade at 8:00, the video rental store at 8:30, the convenience store open the entire time. The sweetshop had opened at 7:00. That’s where I’ll go first, I thought, before getting out into the chill air. My keys jangled when I shoved them in my jeans with my hands. One of the keys bit into the papercut I had gotten two days before. I hissed when it happened; the cut had gone deeper than I had thought when I initially had gotten it. The damn thing had bled a little when I shoved my hand into my bag yesterday for the study session. I tried to ignore the stinging, knowing that the cold would numb it very soon. 

Walking through the town was a lot like walking through Hawkins High School. A few kids looked a little too long at my face when I walked by, a few adults pulling small faces when they saw how unfamiliar I was. I wanted to tell them all to shove off, but I just kept trudging on towards the sweetshop. It was my first, most highly anticipated stop (other than the record store), and I knew that I had better get my ass into gear to grab as much candy and shit as I could before I wasn’t allowed there anymore. Mum was always particular about sweets. When I had driven past the shop, I had gotten more excited than I’d admit. I’d rolled down the windows to smell the melted sugar from the morning worker’s cooking and had salivated more than I should have at my age. As the shop closed into my vision, I could smell it again. I sighed happily, nearly skipping as I picked up a bit of speed to reach the shop all the more quicker. 

The doorbell chimed as I tried hard not to shove the glass door open in anticipation. I took the shop in; the smell had intensified, accompanied by the brightly colored towers of candy and chocolate, a fudge and ice cream bar to my right. To the left was a wall of open wooden box slots full of individually wrapped taffys, chocolates, gum, and more, while the far back wall had a bag dispenser, plastic shovels, and all of the unwrapped bulk candy. I didn’t need to see the odd looks I was getting to know that my eyes were wide. I hadn’t been in a sweetshop since… well, since I’d been around eight. I tried not to giggle as I stepped further into the store, smiling openly and thinking about running my hands over all of the sugar. First, though, would be the chocolate stands in the center of the room. I knew I had to get those chocolate covered orange sticks. When I found them, I grabbed three boxes, as well as a box of boysenberry ones. I hadn’t tried those before. Next was the hand twisted candy sticks; those were on a stand by the fudge and ice cream bar, leaning against the glass of the fudge display. I grabbed a handful of the ones labeled ‘root beer’. I didn’t know what the fuck that was, but I was going to find out. Satisfied with my pickings for the time being, I tracked up to the fudge counter, placing my shit down and looking at the ice cream flavors on the wall.

“Ready to pay?” A guy was there behind the counter.

“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled, pulling out my leather wallet and taking out a few paper bills, unsure how much it would all amount to yet. The guy nodded, tapping something into the register, grabbing each item and placing it somewhere I couldn’t see.

“This gonna be it?” He asked, looking at me. I froze for a second before looking back at the ice cream.

“Oh, can I get a bowl of ice cream? Two scoops of chocolate, please.” I thought back to what Edward had said about burgers being an indicator of quality in an establishment. To me in sweetshops, it was chocolate ice cream. The guy looked slightly upset that he had to get out the scoops, taking his damn time trudging over to the ice cream buckets. I felt a little bad, but not bad enough to take back the order. I spaced off within the few minutes it took for him to gather the ice cream, thinking about where I would go next. 

“That’ll be 5.05$,” he called, bringing me out of my stupor.

“Right.” I gathered a five bill and a one bill from my small wad , flattening them out as well as I could before forking them over. The guy, Richard (I just read his nametag) placed a bag and a bowl on the counter, sticking a spoon in the ice cream before taking the bills from me. He tapped into the register some more. I noticed his brown hair. It was almost the same color of the ice cream, and slightly curled. The bell of the register chimed and the coins jingled as he grabbed my change. I noticed his eyes were a lighter shade of brown, large and seemingly glowing, even though it was still morning. He stuck his hand out, my change inside. I grabbed it, clearing my throat.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, deciding to drop it into the tip jar before grabbing my shit. He nodded, turning back over to the register.

“Want your receipt?” He asked, looking away.

“No thanks.”

“Alright. Have a nice day,” he called. I was already turning away.

I grinned outwardly as I heard the door jingle behind me, enjoying the small amount of happiness I got from hearing it and smelling the waffle cones. Moving the bag of candy to the crook of my arm, I smiled more, grabbing the spoon out of the ice cream and excitedly spooning a small amount onto it. I liked to take a small bite first, to really savor it. I shoved that shit in my mouth as I turned back down the sidewalk, passing a small group of kids being especially loud on their way into the sweetshop. The cold substance melted fast in my mouth, the richness of the chocolate seeping into my teeth and down my throat. This shit was good. 

I tried not to skip on my way through the town, reminding myself that it was only a matter of time before something else went wrong. Even though I was happy, I still had the uneasy feeling I’d had since first entering Hawkins, and I wasn’t about to ignore it. I tried thinking about where to go next as I walked back to my car eating my ice cream, discarding the empty bowl and spoon in a garbage in front of a convenience store. I’d heard from Edward about a few places that I should visit so that I’d know the locations of the hangouts all the other teenagers used in the town. He said that there was a quarry nearby, that there were a few houses in the rich neighborhoods who’s owners were never home to catch them using their backyard pools, and that you didn’t really need trails to hike in the woods because the brush was all pretty low. I’ll admit that I was especially excited to explore the woods. 

In the end, I decided to go to the quarry first. There was no way in hell I was going to trespass on someone’s property by myself, and I wanted to save the hiking for the afternoon, as I was less likely to run into anyone at the quarry earlier than later. I didn’t think I’d run into anyone hiking in the afternoon, let alone at night. 

The wagon croaked a bit as I rolled into place at the top of the quarry. I was right; no one was there yet, even if it was a saturday. Anyone who had gotten laid here the night before was long gone, and the next round of underaged drinkers hadn’t arrived yet. Edward said that there were usually tons of kids around later around summer during the day, but it wasn’t warm enough to be swimming around down below. He had also said that a boy who fell in from an impossible height had shown up dead, then found alive, so there was probably something up with the water and that the kids shouldn’t be swimming around anyways. 

Had he said something about a chemical leak? He might have. 

Goddamn Americans.

I stepped out close to the end of the road before turning back for the fags and light in my glovebox. Once I got them, I sauntered back to the edge, keys dangling dangerously from my jeans as I got up close to the drop off. I opened the new pack, sticking the plastic wrapper into my jeans as well. I noted the few other wrappers and stubs around my feet, trailing around the edge. Even if Americans didn’t care about the land around them, I wouldn’t leave my shit here. I had very strong opinions about littering. Lighting my cig, I stared straight down at the water. It didn’t seem too far down from where I was standing, but on the drive up, I had seen exactly how sheer the cliff was down, and I wasn’t about to test out how far it was myself. Even so, I was tempted to try diving in; maybe later, during the summer months. I had cliff dived a few times in New Zealand with some of the boys in my tribe my age. I had stopped my second year into high school because a younger boy in the tribe had hit rocks and died. I hadn’t been on that trip, and I tried telling my mom that I knew enough about diving to know when not to jump, but she had banned me from the cliffs anyway. I thought about the boy as I inhaled the smoke; he had only been eleven, and it had just been him, his mum, and his younger sister. I had cried hearing about it before I got the shit beaten out of me for crying, because dad said it was a pussy thing to do. Mum had cried a lot more. I think she’d known the mother. The boy had been diving with some of his friends, all a few years older than him, but still not as experienced as myself and the other kids my age had been. I heard a rumor that older boys had shown up and dared him to jump at a different place than usual, higher up, and more dangerous. I knew the spot. I had enjoyed diving there before. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I’d also heard that they were pushing the boy around when he fell. I took a very long drag thinking about it. Banned from diving, I’d still gone a few times after the incident. Even so, I’d made a point of not diving in that spot again. I just hoped that I hadn’t known any of the boys that had been there. 

I stared into the water. It would be much colder than back home. 

I finished a fag. Then another. Then a half hour break. Then another.

I didn’t like to consider myself a chain smoker, but sometimes I lost myself in my thoughts, and it was always better to be smoking when I was by myself

I finished the whole pack.

Once I was done staring into the trees, I realised that I only had two and a half hours of sunlight left. I’d been at the quarry for far too long; I had no idea when people would start showing for the parties. It was time to go explore the woods.

Edward had recommended a few areas; some, he said, it would be easier to hide my body in than others. He told me that he himself wouldn’t go to some places, like the route that went past the weird lab from which the chemical leak had occurred. Edward had rolled his eyes at me when he saw me get excited about hearing that, telling me to go to the woods on the other side of the road if I wanted to see some freaky haunted shit. One of the girls, had it been Jess? had mentioned that there was a weird fort there that the kid had gone missing had made and hid out in sometimes. 

I thought about it. I knew the general direction; Edward gave me a mile marker to go off of to see some “fucked up shit”, because even if the road wasn’t named, it still had damned mile markers. I headed back inside the wagon, thinking. If I went off of Edward’s marker, I could probably find the weird-ass fort they were talking about. 

Driving out of the quarry, I turned in the direction of the lab. The unwritten road was an awkward turn off, and I missed it the first time I passed it, drifting a bit on the gravel sector of the road as I slammed my brakes. It was weird; the named road I was on was definitely gravel and as far as I knew more traveled on, but the unmarked road was nicely paved. It didn’t even look like trucks ever used it. It gave me a very bad feeling. I didn’t give a fuck about my feelings, thought, and did a U-turn, pulling onto the paved road jarringly. I drove along for a bit, the sky starting to dim. The trees were thicker on the right than they were on the left, but both sides seemed thicker than the trees around the quarry, from what I could tell. I looked over to the left. Edward said that the thinner trees with less brush and a steep slope off the road was the way to go. It seemed the left was that side. I watched the markers on mine; passed one, then two. “Three is the closest marker to it,” he had said, “But it’s really in between two and three, just before three, actually.”

I did another u-turn once I saw the marker, turning into the other side of the road before pulling off. I was excited, drumming my fingers against the stick as I went off the road. Before exiting the car, I reached under the wheel, feeling around for my emergency pack of fags. I knew I shouldn’t smoke a whole pack in a day and I definitely shouldn’t smoke more than one, but I snatched the pack out from under where it was taped anyways. It was way older than the Pall Malls; it was some Marlboro reds, from when we had just gotten to America and I had decided to try to fit in. I opened it, stuffing the wrapper in my jeans again, but pulling out three before putting it in the glove box and grabbing the lighter.  
The air was getting cooler as I exited the wagon, slamming the door behind me. I stuffed the three fags and the lighter down my jeans with the wrappers and the keys. I wasn’t planning on smoking just yet. I looked up at the sky. It was darker still, and I knew that I still had a lot of time to explore, but I decided to go to the drunk and grab the flashlight my dad had been so concerned about grabbing on the way over. I checked if the batteries were still juiced, slapping it against my leg when it didn’t turn on immediately. The batteries rearranged themselves and connected, lighting the piece of shit. It wasn’t a bad flashlight, and I could see the strain of light against the trees on the other side of the road. I shut it off and began trudging through the light brush, looking for signs of travel. Edward had said there would be just a little bit of a trail from kids hanging out in the woods. I found it almost immediately, a faint line leading through the slope down but then disappearing with the brush at the bottom. It seemed that there wouldn’t be much brush to get through at all. 

I started stomping down, tugging at my windbreaker. I knew that I would probably end up unzipping or taking it off depending on how far out I went. Once I got to the base of the slope, I looked back up it, then forward. The fort should be in about the same direction as the line of walking, I theorized, before walking forward again, following an invisible line. I knew that if I kept straight, I’d be able to get back to the car with no problems. I was usually pretty good with directions. 

Because I walked nice and slow, it took just less than an hour to reach the fort. The weird thing was bigger than I expected, and almost looked lived in. It was very eerie, only barely lit by some grey light seeping through the trees, and my mind started wandering places.

“I need to stop watching so many goddamn horror movies.” I looked around.

“Especially now that I’m in Hicksville,” I grumbled, slightly kicking at the structure. I didn’t mean to harm it or anything, and as expected, it didn’t budge when I nudged it. When I looked closer, I noticed it had a little sign at the front, reading ‘CAStLE BYERS’. There were a few more; ‘ALL FRIENDS WELCOME’ and ‘HOME OF WiLL THE WiSE’ in red, which I could barely read. It looked really cute. I could definitely imagine a group of kids hanging around the place during daylight. Now? Not so much, as there wasn’t much daylight left. I suddenly felt like I was intruding in someone’s very private space, and that someone was watching me. 

Something felt very, very, very wrong.

I really didn’t want to turn my back on something like the fort that gave me nerves like that, so instead of turning around, I kept going, turning back at an angle to watch it as I walked away, pulling out a Marlboro and my lighter. I lit up fast, and, after taking a few puffs, decided I was safe enough to turn tail out of there. 

It took me a few minutes to realize that the cracking twigs under my feet and the glow of my fag would probably alert anything out here that was out to get me. It calmed me down a bit, like there wasn’t anything I could do to prevent being attacked. It took the anxiety out of my hands and into the trees. I chuckled to myself a bit after that, pulling out the flashlight when I decided it was dim enough. It wasn’t until a few more minutes that I realized I’d have to pass the fort on the way back to find my car. In the dark. 

“Fucking shit.”

I hissed into the dark, glancing around a bit. I decided that I probably would be able to find my way back to the road without going back straight, and that’s what I started off to do. No way in hell I was gonna shine my light on that fort tonight. I was going strong for about half an hour, my thoughts drifting to things other than that the woods here might be haunted. Then, I tripped.

“Fucking SHIT!” I yelled, dropping my flashlight and practically launching myself into the ground. I huffed, getting off of my chest and onto my knees, then grabbed my flashlight. I shined it at the leafy floor of the woods. I had tripped on a root; it stuck out like a dark menace against the light leaves on the ground. I groaned, shining the light on myself. I was covered in leaves, dirt and twigs now. Not only that, but the cut on my hand had reopened. 

“I hate this fucking town,” I muttered, picking myself up before freezing.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong, and despite being a human, the deadliest predator on the face of the earth, I suddenly felt like prey. 

I really, REALLY didn’t want to move, but I forced myself to shine my flashlight around. I tried to stop the beam from shaking as I slowly turned around, dedicatedly examining the trees for the slightest moment. 

Nothing. 

I let out a long, silent breath. This was it. Fight or flight. Either nothing there, or something there. 

I picked fight. I picked something there. And I was right.

I stood my ground, slowly placing my feet in a steady position, ready for something to come out of the trees at a moment's notice. That’s when I heard it. It was low and scratchy, not like an animal or person I’d heard before, and it was coming from right in front of me. Behind the tree. In between me and my way out of the woods. I brought my flashlight in front of my face in preparation, and began spinning tales in my mind of what it could be.

Bear?

Cougar?

Coyote?

Wolf?

Bobcat?

Lynx?

I had no idea what it could be. I lived in New Zealand, for Christ’s sake. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to guess what it was, because whatever it was came out from behind the damn tree.

I was right. It wasn't an animal or a human.

I didn’t know what the fuck it was. 

What it was was fucking knarly. I paused, looking at it as it approached, leaning towards me. It was very slender, almost slimy in the light of my flashlight, but very dark in color. It’s head was an anomaly. If not for the head, I would have thought it was some oddly shaped coke addict and that the light was playing tricks on me. This wasn’t a coke addict. This was a goddamn monster. It didn’t have a face; or, what was supposed to be it’s face was one, big mouth, teeth littering the opening that widened and bloomed like a wack-ass flower. 

“Fuck me,” I whimpered slightly, trying not to back down. I went over my options. I still could run, but, judging by how fast it had gotten in front of me, it could probably outrun my sorry ass. It’s limbs were much longer than mine, but were gangly, and it seemed to not be too much taller than me. I went over the statistics. 

Did monsters have experience bare knuckling it?

Hell no. 

I could take it. 

I let it attack me first, knowing the split second it would give me would give me more information about how it moved. The thing lurched forwards, flower face stretching out to meet me. I ducked, coming up behind it and wrenching the thing’s langy arms back and sweeping a leg at its appendages, trying to take it down.

I had underestimated its strength and flexibility.

While I could trip the thing, sending both of us to the ground, it wrenched it’s arms out of my grip and twisted its ugly fucking head around, slashing at me. I started away, jumping up, but I wasn’t fast enough. The damn thing got a grip of my arm. I could feel the teeth sticking into my muscle. I screamed, thrashing around like a dog, trying to get the thing to let go. It started trying to pull me in further, wrapping its arms around mine, pulling me closer. There was no way in hell I was gonna let this thing eat me.

I suddenly closed in the space between us, slamming the thing into the ground again, using the element of surprise to wrench my arm out of its face, then grabbing at its weird petals and slamming them shut. It’s legs and arms swung at me, hard. It was its turn to thrash around. I had it’s weird, sliming face shut, almost like a head lock between my now injured arm and my chest. I shifted around, beating at its arms and legs with my other arm and my own legs. I could hear squelching and a few snaps. I didn’t work out for nothing. It took a few minutes of beating, but eventually the thing’s appendages started to falter, movements becoming more feeble. It had bones and flesh. It could die. I then started going at the head. I hit repeatedly, over and over and over again for another good few minutes. I think I tore through the thing’s fleshy face and teeth with my fists, its face still closed. I don’t remember much after that. I just know that I beat it, and I beat it good. 

When I stopped, I dropped it from my grasp. I had beaten it to a literal bloody pulp. I sized up what was left again; whatever it was, it was huge. I had definitely broken some of its bones. It was bleeding slime.

I watched as it struggled to move a bit. Then, as it gave up. Then, as it died.

It was dead. I could tell. I didn’t feel like prey anymore. I didn’t feel threatened. Unfortunately, that means that I started feeling my arm and my own bruised appendages. I knew that the adrenaline was going to run out, so I ran.

I ran all the way back to my car.

I sped back to the farmhouse. I had to keep wiping the sweat off my face with my injured arm, because it was the arm I wasn’t driving with.

Once parked, I ran into the house.

That’s when it ran out. I slammed my ass into the wood floor, exhausted. I could hear a plate clattering in the room over, then two sets of feet stomping over.

“WHAT IN GODDAMN HELL, TE TANGAROA.”

That was dad. I grinned at him, covered in my own blood. He towered over me.

“DID YOU GET INTO A FIGHT? IN YOUR FIRST WEEK?” He was practically screaming. His voice was very heavy and low, and it sent shivers through my body, reminding me of other times he’d used that tone with me.

“No, it’s not like that,” I tried to be calm as I responded, but he wasn’t having it.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT. YOU GODDAMN-” he grabbed my jacket, bringing me up to his level. I forced my arm into his face, interrupting.

“-Went on a hike. Got attacked by an animal or something,” I spoke quietly. He looked confused for a moment, like he couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t fucked up.

“What?” his voice was near normal now. I looked over at mum, who was standing behind him, eyes wide.

“I was exploring the town, remember when I said I was going to do that?” I asked her directly. Mum rolled her eyes at me.

“Put the shitstain down, honey,” she grumbled at my dad. My mum defending me? That was a first.

“You know how they have bigger animals here? Like mountain lions and stuff?” I went on, and my dad grudgingly started lowering his hands from my windbreaker. “I was walking through the woods by town-” I wasn’t, but they didn’t have to know that.

“-and I got attacked by something big, it was huge. Much bigger than me,” I continued, trying to look convincing. I nodded at my arm. “See the teeth marks?” Dad looked down at my arm, quiet for a moment. Mom looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” she huffed when he was taking too long.

“... those are teeth marks,” dad muttered, like he didn’t want to accept it. He looked back at my face, glaring.

“Did you let it get away?”

“Uhhhh-”

“-Did you, or did you not.” He growled at me. I looked away.

“I killed it. Dropped its body in the quarry, didn’t want rangers on me for killing something that was endangered or whatever. Still not sure what it was.” It was a half lie. I had left the body there like an idiot, but I didn’t really know what it was.

Dad turned away, finally, shuffling away back into the kitchen.

“You better have. To kill a beast like that is honorable in self defense. You are nearly a man,” he paused. “You interrupted dinner. Your mother made chicken and risotto, you can have some after you clean that shit up,” he added, then walked into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes after mum left too, and after a few seconds, I could hear forks on plates again. 

Trudging into the bathroom, I tried to stop any blood from getting onto the floor. I knew it would be impossible to clean, and there was probably enough on the floor by the door already. Once I hit the sink, I turned on the water full blast, shoving my arm under it. I refused to look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to see what I looked like.

The injury was getting clearer and clearer in the water, odd rows of teeth becoming more obvious and even more odd. If it weren’t for their placement and depth, I would have thought that I was tripping acid. I washed my face, washed the rest of myself that still had blood and dirt, then went to my room to change my clothes. It was there that reality hit. 

I stood in the center of my room, staring at nothing, revisiting what had just occurred.

“What the absolute FUCK was that.”


	4. An Odd Encounter

“Oh, shit.”

I had many regrets in life. In my mind, last night was at the top of that list.

As I woke to my alarm, every single piece of my body was burning, every drop of adrenaline having worn out. My left arm was on fire. I tried to move my head, but was met with a splitting headache and a very sore neck, pain stretching down my back. I sucked it in for a second before rolling over and slamming my hand into the alarm clock.

“Noooooooo…” I grumbled. I really didn’t want to have to go to church on a sunday morning if I could barely move. Looking down my bed at myself, I could see bruise after bruise trailing up my shorts and covering my arms. They were multicolored and very ugly. I didn’t want to know what my arm looked like, but I looked. I had swollen overnight, but not as much as I thought it would. Pink puncture wounds ripped through my tanned skin, oozing just a little bit of that clear liquid that scabs over. I groaned. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Sitting up, I brought it closer to my face. It didn’t seem infected yet, and it didn’t seem to need stitches. Even if it did need stitches, I wouldn’t want them, because I thought scars were cool. This would definitely scar. I chuckled to myself for a bit at that thought before thinking about what I should do with my arm.

Hmmmmmmmmm.

I didn’t think I needed to wrap it up. It probably needed some amount of air to breathe, even if it had been airing out all night. Then again, I still didn’t know what had attacked me. Could it have been venomous?

No, I didn’t feel any side effects other than the bruising.

I decided that I’d let it dry out, opting not to bandage it. If people at church stared, they stared. Maybe they’d get the hint not to approach me. I still hadn’t figured out exactly how racist Hawkins was. Even so, I decided to wear a long sleeved button up, rolling the sleeves up slightly to put less pressure on my arm. People might not even get a glimpse of it if it was cold outside anyways.

I hummed a Maori chant my dad’s sister used to sing to me as a kid as I got up and started to get ready for the day, once in a while whispering the words out loud when I got a little too into it. Once I got to the bathroom, I finally looked in the mirror.

Damn.

I didn’t look too bad. I looked hot as hell, actually. I grinned at myself in my reflection, ruffling my curly black hair up a bit as I looked at my clothes. I couldn’t wait to grow my hair out again. My arm was pretty badass, teeth marks cutting past the dark green sleeves, vibrant against my skin. My bruises weren’t as visible in the light, the purple and green blending slightly with my toned arms. I’d taken a shower the night before to get rid of the blood and dirt, so I just popped on some deodorant and cologne before heading down the stairs. Every step ached, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t take it, so I didn’t even wince as I made my way into the kitchen. Mum was already up, eating cereal in her best green church dress. 

“Where’s dad?” I asked, stepping under the kitchen lights. 

“He went for a run. You know how he is in the morning.” She glowered. Mum and I weren’t exactly morning people, but dad was. 

“Okay,” I nodded, and grabbed open the fridge. There wasn’t much at the moment, but I spotted the leftover risotto. I’d had some the night before. Risotto was one of my favorite dishes, and in the rare occurrence mum was cooking, I usually asked her to make it, even though it meant dinner would be later.

“Any plans for the risotto?” I asked, head still in the fridge. Mum shook her head, taking her spoon out of her mouth.

“No, go ahead.”

“‘Kay.” I snatched the risotto out of the fridge. It was in a glass container, so I could just throw it into the microwave. 

I awkwardly stood there, waiting for the rice dish to reheat, when mum finally saw my arm.

“Te Ta, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go to church looking like that,” she mumbled into her cereal. I tried not to give her any attitude, but it was hard.

“Mum-” I started, but she interrupted.

“-You’re going to scare the children. What will the other adults think? No one wants to see that shit,” she grumbled. I turned around so that I could roll my eyes at her.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes, Te Ta. You will not be walking into church, our first day there, looking like that.”

“Mum, you could just tell anyone who asks that I got attacked. I don’t really care,” I muttered, finally opening the microwave and pulling out the risotto. It was hot enough for me to drop, but I didn’t.

“I don’t want to have to explain what you’ve been up to to the other adults there,” mum went on. “And I don’t want people making assumptions about what kind of people we are. You will not conduct yourself like a hooligan, young man.”

“Fine,” I mumbled, pulling my sleeves down. The pressure they put on my arm instantly made the cuts burn again, but I didn’t say anything. 

We didn’t talk for the rest of the morning. Eventually, dad came in, sweating like a pig, but he didn’t say anything either, just walked right up the stairs to shower and get ready for church.

An hour later and we were on our way.

I had been smart enough to hide the bag of candy under the back seat of the wagon the night before, with my two unused marlboros and my light. I was confident that dad wouldn’t find the marlboros under the wheel either. Mum and dad didn’t say anything on the drive over, dad driving with mum in the passenger's seat, myself in the back. 

I always felt really uncomfortable when I wasn’t driving. I felt like the car was my safe space sometimes, the place I could be when I wasn’t around my parents. I fidgeted with my hands all the way to church. 

The building wasn’t too big. I guess there were several churches in the area, so there was plenty of disbursement of church goers. The closest church to us, the one we got to, wasn’t really a poor area, but it definitely wasn’t the suburbs. It was mostly farmers and their kids on this side, with a few exceptions of families that owned odd properties further from Hawkins town center. I guess it kind of was a poorer area. There were a lot of older folks, too, but the first person I recognized was Jess, Edward’s girlfriend. I waved a little when she saw me, and she smiled and waved back, but that was about it. Her family was on a pew closer to the front. Dad put us on a pew to the left back of the church, but not so far back as the VERY back. From the moment we had walked in we had started getting odd looks, but luckily, once we were seated, people started looking away. I’m pretty sure my dad and I were the only non-whites. Even though nothing had happened yet, I put myself on alert, ready for someone to start something. I think my dad did too. Mum just acted like everything was normal. She sat at the end of our pew, my dad and I spaced through the rest of it, dad closest to the wall. Eventually, a few ladies started a conversation with my mum, and I started easing into my seat a little better. At least my mum could have friends. I could hear them chattering; someone commented on my mum’s accent, and she laughed, mentioning that we were from New Zealand. The ladies all started introducing themselves, and I tried to remember their names. Barbara Smith, Elizabeth Holland, and Beatrice (“Oh, but no, call me Betty”) Collins. One of the women introduced herself as Susan Hargrove, and smiled at me when I looked over. I tried to smile back, but I probably just looked crazy. I looked around. There were definitely a few kids my age, but I only thought I recognized a few other than Jess. I definitely couldn’t put faces to names other than Jess. I heard my name, so I snapped back into the conversation. 

“This is Te Ta, or James,” my mum gestured to me. I stood up and shook the ladies hands.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, trying to smile again before sitting back down.

“He’s going to Hawkins high, in his third year. He’s seventeen,” mum continued. I tried not to groan out loud. Some of the women looked excited.

“Oh, Jessica is a junior as well!” I think it was Betty Collins who said that.

“William is too,” smiled Susan Hargrove. 

“Melissa is a sophomore,” Barbara Smith echoed. 

“How are you liking Hawkins so far?” That was Elizabeth Holland, and that was directed to me.

“It’s alright. A lot different than New Zealand,” I offered, and I could swear the ladies squealed.

“Your son is lovely! I’m sure his voice will get many young ladies,” Betty Collins laughed. My mum laughed too. 

“I certainly hope so,” she told her,

“Muuuuuum!” I elbowed her with my good arm, embarrassed. She just laughed at me.

“Jessica is dating that Howard boy, that little trouble maker. At least his grades are good. I think his name was Edward?” Mrs. Collins went on.

“Yes, I met Edward,” I added. I wondered if I should try defending his honor, but I felt like this wasn’t the time or place.

“Right, she told me she met a new student! It must have been you.”

“Really? James, are you making friends?” My mum turned to me. I shrugged.

“I guess so.” I was really eager to change the subject, but I didn’t know how. I thought about how funny Edward Howard sounded instead. Thank God the subject changed soon after.

“Is Jessica still friends with that Perkins girl? I’ve heard thing-”

Yep, that was my turn to tune out.

Eventually, the group of women dissipated with the beginning of the organ music, each returning to their respective families. I watched where each of them sat, thinking about how different they all were and wondering what their kids were all like. Mrs. Collins sat with Jess and a man I assumed was her husband. I figured Jess was an only child. Mrs. Smith sat with three girls that I figured were her daughters, and her husband. Mrs. Holland, an older woman, sat with a man just as old. They seemed like they had had children before, but that they might have left the house already. I was going to watch Mrs. Hargrove too, but the pastor took the podium, and the music stopped. I never got to see who she came to church with, because I zoned out really fast. I wasn’t really big on religion like my parents were. I could never tell them that, of course, but I obviously didn’t enjoy church. 

When church ended and we got back, mum was pretty upset with me.

“You’ve gotten a nice shirt ruined, Te Ta!” She was talking about how the juices from my arm had soaked through the sleeve. Lucky for mum, no one had seen it but her and dad.

“This is why I didn’t want to wear my sleeves down, mum.”

“You could have wrapped it up, at least!” she was kind of shrieky now. I put my hands up.

“Mum, it’s okay, I can clean it. If worst comes to worst, I can buy another, okay?” 

Mum paused, glowering at me for a bit, before telling me to get it cleaned today before it stained. It took me two hours to get whatever was coming out of my arm out of the fabric. I tried my best to get the stains out, not because mum had told me to, but because it really was my favorite button-up. After I was done, I decided to let it air dry. I figured that way I could best see what damage was remaining. I showed it to my mum, then told her I was going out again so hike a bit more.

“Alright. Be home before four this time, I don’t want to make dinner,” was all mum said. 

I changed into a band t-shirt, a windbreaker on top, and was out the door faster than mum could call me back in.

I was excited as I got into the car. Should I go back to that fort? Should I try finding the body of whatever the hell that thing was? Maybe I should find it and throw it into the quarry, like I said I did. Would it still be there? Were there more of them?

I decided to go back to the fort and find the body. It was daylight, so nothing could sneak up on me this time. I still had five hours before I had to be home. That was plenty of time, even if something else came up.

I found the unnamed road. I found the markers. I pulled the u-turn again. I parked the car. I grabbed the extra two marlboros and my lighter. Just in case, I grabbed the pack under the wheel, too. Then, I was off. 

It was like the woods had a completely different energy than they had the night before. I could hear birds chirping, and saw a few squirrels running about through the brush on the way down the slope. I knew I was smiling as I walked through the woods straight to the Byers’ fort.

I was about twenty meters away when I realized that I wasn’t alone. There was another guy there, close to the fort, rummaging around near the base of it in a pile of leaves. A camera swung around his neck, his weird Beatles haircut swinging back and forth with the sharp jerks of his head. He was looking for something. I stopped for a second, wondering if I should leave, but then decided to trudge on. I needed to find that body. Sure as not to startle the guy, I coughed when I got closer.

“Who-Who’re you?” he stuttered, standing up abruptly. I looked at his face. I thought that I’d seen him before somewhere, probably school.

“I’m James. Who’re you?” I asked, coming a little closer. He looked confused.

“Um, Jonathan. What’re you doing here?” His tone was less scared now, and more aggressive. 

“Taking a walk. I’m new to town,” I shoved my hands in my open windbreaker. I was making an effort not to look suspicious. He still looked nervous.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked him calmly. He glowered at me.

“Same’syou,” he muttered, putting his own hands in his pockets.

“I really doubt that,” I mumbled to myself, but he heard me.

“What do you mean?” His eyes were sharp. I put up my hands.

“Look, man, if I’m trespassing or anything, I'll leave, okay? But someone told me this was a nice place to walk through the woods,” I tried. Jonathan’s eyes lit up in confusion.

“If someone told you that, then they’re not your friend,” he said awkwardly. Now I was confused.

“What?” I asked. I knew that it was supposed to be haunted, or whatever, but Jonathan’s reaction was telling.

“You really shouldn’t be here. Yeah, you aren’t trespassing, but it’s not safe to walk around here. Even during the day.” Jonathan seemed to be getting braver. He stuck his jaw out. I put my hands back in my windbreaker.

“Then you shouldn’t be here either, huh?” I asked it quietly, trying not to threaten him. He didn’t look threatened, so I went on.

“Are there things out here that should keep me away?” I asked. He took a sharp intake of breath. So, this guy knew something.

“Jonathan?” I asked. He looked away, huffing a bit. It was then I noticed the small pistol in his jeans. I pulled out a marlboro and lit it, taking a puff.

“Want one?” I offered, and he warily took one from my outstretched hand. I lit in in his mouth. He still wouldn’t look me in the eyes. We stood there for a few minutes by the fort, puffing smoke. I decided to break the silence after it was getting awkward.

“I don’t expect you to tell me all of the secrets of the woods, Jonathan, but just know that I’m pretty sure I can fend for myself out here,” I told him. He laughed rockily.

“I heard you don’t have predators in New Zealand.”

“You heard that, huh?” I asked, looking back at him. He was looking into the distance, his eyebags clearer from the side. He shrugged.

“I hear a lot of things.”

I hummed in response, taking another puff of the marlboro in my teeth.

“You a junior too?” 

“Yep.” He took a drag.

“Alright.” Jonathan seemed like a quiet kid, not much into talking, so I kept it short. “I think I’ll walk around a little more. I’ll see you later?” 

Jonathan just nodded. “Thanks for the smoke.”

“No problem.” I turned to walk away, but Jonathan suddenly turned to me again.

“If you see any kids around, will you tell them to stay out of the trees? It’s not safe for them around,” he mumbled. I thought for a second.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll do that.”

Jonathan turned away again, and I walked off. Once he was out of sight and earshot, I scrunched my face up.

“Odd kid,” I muttered, turning off in the direction of the body.

“What the hell was he doing with a gun out here?” I thought. He must know there’s something out here. 

I tracked through the leaves, trying to estimate where I’d tripped and fallen. I smelled the damn thing before I found it. Once I came up on it’s carcass, I realized that there was no way in hell I could put it into the car.

It was basically a puddle of slime and bones, a strong stench of rotting fruit lingering from five meters around it, getting worse as I approached it.

“Oh, fuck.” I didn’t want to get anywhere near it, but I grabbed a stick on the ground and poked it, hoping to find some solidity in the form. There was a bit, but it wasn’t convincing enough for me to try picking it up. I wasn’t sure if I could have picked a corpse up with all my bruising anyways.

“This is gross.” My words floated around, sinking into the trees. I hoped that Jonathan hadn’t followed me.

It looked like there was nothing I could do, so I left. I figured that if someone found it, they wouldn’t be in any danger unless they ate it or something. Then, it was someone else’s problem. 

I thought for a few more moments, then decided to walk back to the fort. I wondered if Jonathan was still there, and whether I could try to get more answers out of him without pissing him off enough to pull out his gun. Sure enough, he was still there, holding the burned out butt of the marlboro in his fingers as I approached.

“Hello,” I awkwardly said. He looked at me funny.

“Hey.”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what to say.

“Have you, uhhhh…” I trailed off before getting the balls to ask.

“... seen anything weird around here?” Jonathan shrugged. “I’ve seen some weird things.” 

I sighed. This was going to be hard.

“Have you?” Jonathan looked up at me. I suddenly felt like I was under a magnifying glass.

“Maybe,” I offered. Then stopped. “Yeah, actually, I have.”

Jonathan looked like he had some well defined questions in his throat, but he just turned away.

“There’s a lot of things that people know about, and don’t know about, that have happened in the woods,” he offered. I knew I looked surprised.

“If-” he stopped, looking up again. 

“-If you ever see something, there’s a few people who know something. That would be me, Nancy, and Chief Hopper.”

A police officer? Hell no.

“I’ll keep it in mind. Nancy Wheeler?” I asked, surprised. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. There was definitely something going on here.

“Steve Harrington, too, if you know who that is, but you probably don’t, because he skips a lot and is a senior,” he continued. He was right. I didn’t know who that was.

“Here, I’ll walk you to your car,” he gestured in the direction of the road. I couldn’t tell if he was being nice or trying to get me out of the woods. 

“Um, okay,” I said, blushing a little. Jonathan didn’t say anything else as we walked for a bit. I ended up breaking the silence again.

“Nancy Wheeler’s in one of my classes, I think,” I mentioned, kicking at a rock in my way. 

“I think she mentioned sitting next to you, yeah.”

“She seemed nice.”

“She’s definitely interesting,” Jonathan chuckled. “She’s kind of intimidated by you, actually,” he smiled. I laughed.

“I’ll try to be less intimidating, then,” I tried.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything, she could kick your ass. She could definitely kick mine,” Jonathan smiled. Oh, there was definitely something between them.

“You dating Wheeler?” I asked, trying to ignore that he said the toothpick of a girl could kick my ass.

“Uh, yeah, kind of,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed.

“For what it’s worth, I think you guys’d look cute together. I mean, I haven’t seen you guys together, but I think you’d look good,” I tried again. 

“Um, thanks.” 

It was quiet for a few more minutes.

“Hey, listen,” Jonathan started. “If you come through here again, there’s a better entrance into the woods. You can see more ways to walk from there,” he went on again. I was surprised. 

“Okay.” I waited for him to continue.

“Yeah. Um, if you turn down Piney lane instead, it’ll take you to a dead end. There’s a house there. Feel free to park there, then head past it into the woods. There’s a few breaks in the bushes that’ll set you off through these woods, and it’s easier to find your way back,” he said. 

“Oh. Um, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jonathan then muttered something that sounded a lot like “then we’ll know if someone’s in the woods”, but I didn’t say anything. 

We reached the car pretty fast. Jonathan turned back before climbing the slope, so I made the last stretch by myself. I was disappointed as I got back to the car. I’d hoped for an easy end, a way I could just stop worrying about the figure. I’d hoped it could've been identifiable, that it really had been a cougar or something else like it, or hoped I could at least throw it into the quarry. I couldn’t identify it or pick it up. 

When I pulled into my driveway with more time than I would have liked, I decided to make pork roast for dinner.


	5. Things That I Wouldn't Know Where Relevant Till Later, Like a Dumbass

I decided against showing off my injuries at school. I thought it might be bad for stereotyping, and I definitely still didn’t want to look like a punk. 

I started hanging out with Edward and his friends a little more. Carol was especially funny, even if she was kind of an asshole sometimes. I didn’t see her as much as the others, though, because she was always with her boyfriend. I started eating lunch with Edward, Jess, and Ethan. Hanging around them wasn’t awful. What was awful was the cafeteria food. Even though I didn’t like American food, the school took my hatred to the next level. I made an effort to bring lunches to school after the first week of my disgust at the food options. I noticed that Edward kind of liked the school lunches, but Jess and Ethan agreed with how bad they sucked. I noticed that Carol didn’t like them either, but her boyfriend Tommy did. She would tease him about it in front of the rest of the basketball team during lunch.

I noticed Jonathan in the halls a few times. He didn’t ever really look my way. At least, when I was watching. Sometimes I wondered if he stared when I wasn’t looking. I asked Edward about him once. That’s when I found out he was a Byers, and that it was his younger brother that had gone missing before, turned up dead, then was found alive. 

“I felt really bad for him, you know? Most did,” Jess was talking as I dug into my turkey sandwich. I had decided that I liked turkey.

“They call his brother zombie boy, which isn’t that bad, but you can tell it gets to him after a while. I dunno how I feel about it,” Ethan added. 

“I mean, sure, it was a little odd, but you’d think they’d give the poor kid a break,” Jess went on. “I don’t really think it was his fault. It had to do with the government doing sketchy stuff, right?”

Edward nodded into his mashed potatoes and slop. “That’s what it sounded like, but who knows?” He smiled at me, teeth full of gravy.

“Gross, Edward.” I flung a piece of cheese from my sandwich at him. He laughed.

“There really isn’t anything wrong with their family, people just think so. They’ve been called weird since before the whole zombie boy thing happened.” That was Ethan again.

“Well, remember when Jonathan took pictures of Nancy with Steve Harrington? What really was weird,” Edward pointed out.

“What?” I asked, mouth full of sandwich.

“Yeah, Nancy and Harrington were up in his house doing who knows what while Byers was sneaking around in his bushes, taking pictures of him. I think Nicole was the one that found out. She told Carol and Tommy, and they told Harrington. Harrington ripped up the photos and broke his camera. They've been friends for a while, now, though, so maybe the rumors were wrong,” Edward told, mouth still full of mashed potatoes. 

“Nicole?” I asked. 

“One of Carol’s friends. She kinda has a little troop going on, with Nicole, Tina, and Vicki. Tina’s really hot,” Edward grinned. Jess smacked him with her notebook from across the table. 

“If she’s not around her boyfriend, she’s probably around them. She doesn’t hang out with us as much as she used to in middle school anymore,” Ethan offered. 

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Well, Edward, the whole thing with Nancy, Jonathan and Harrington happened while his brother was missing, right?” Jess asked.

“I guess.”

“So then they didn’t really deserve to be called weird before them, even if they were,” Jess pointed out.

“Huh. Maybe. I dunno, if you just look at Jonathan, you can still tell he’s kind of weird, even if he’s dating Nancy,” Edward gestured to the end of the cafeteria. There, at the doors, were Nancy and Jonathan. They seemed to be getting along fine; Nancy was smiling up at him, and I almost thought I saw Jonathan smile too. 

“Oh my God, wasn’t it the same night that Barb went missing?” Jess suddenly gasped. Ethen’s eyes got wide, and everyone got really quiet.

“Yeah, it was,” Edward said really softly. 

The topic got dropped pretty fast. I guessed that Harrington, Nancy and Jonathan were old news.

After that lunch, Edward pulled me to the side to explain what happened. 

“I’m sorry about that. Barb, well, she was our friend; we still miss her. It happened just last year,” he told me. He looked sadder than I’d seen him before. “Sure, she hung out with Nancy more, but, well, we’d just known her for so long. Hell, Ethan had a crush on her for years. It was really hard on him, her death.” 

I just nodded. I really didn’t need to know this information.

Edward smiled sadly. “Our friend group really used to be bigger. It’s kinda sad when you think about it. In middle school, it was us, and Carol, and Barb, and Nancy. Though, Nancy hung out with the nerds more,” Edward laughed. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ll see you later,” I told him. I really didn’t want to hear about stuff that wasn’t my business. 

“See you!” he called after me.

Later that day, I went to a movie with Ethan, Jess, and Edward. We were walking out of the theatre together when Carol and her boyfriend got brought up again. 

“Hey, is basketball still in session?” Edward asked after they mentioned how much they disliked Tommy.

“Yeah, I think games haven’t even started yet, even though they’ve been practicing since October,” Ethan commented. 

“Say, James,” Edward nudged me with his elbow. “You’re a big fella, you think you’d try sports?” 

“I played rugby in New Zealand, but I don’t think I’d play anything like basketball.”

“I wonder if they’d let you try, even though it’s late? You’re just a junior still, so this way you’d at least get a shot at senior year, if you like.”

“I dunno. I’ve never played before, but I’d be willing to try,” I shrugged. I tried to change the subject. I wasn’t really that interested this year.

“Have you guys noticed anything weird recently?” I asked. They looked confused.

“Like, what, weird? Like Byers weird?” That was Jess.

“Nevermind.” I had a feeling they had no idea what was going on in the woods. If anything was going on at all.

“I mean, Billy Hargrove has been acting weird recently, and he still looks gay as hell,” Edward offered.

“EDWARD!” Ethan gasped. Edward shrugged.

“What, like he doesn’t have the once earring on his left side? What about the long curly hair and the hairspray? Or the jewelry? Or-”

“-You can’t just SAY shit like that, Edward, goddamnit-” Jess interrupted him, but he kept going.

“-And he was sooooo hung up on Harrington this year, it was so gay-”

“EDWARD!” Ethan yelled again. 

“I don’t think I know Hargrove, actually.” I’d heard the last name before somewhere. Edward rolled his eyes.

“Of course you haven’t noticed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I smacked his arm.

“You’re not exactly super observant, James,” Edward rolled his eyes.

“I’M not super observant? How about the guy talking about how gay another dude is in PUBLIC?” I questioned him. 

“Whatever, James. As I was saying, it’s a miracle there aren’t rumors and the guy doesn’t get bullied for it-”

“-That’s probably because he could kick your ass,” interrupted Ethan. “And I’d rather not get MY ass kicked by him either, so please, can we change the subject? I don’t give a damn about Hargrove,” He muttered. That’s when it clicked.

Oh. He went to my church. His mom was Susan Hargrove. William? OH. Billy was short for William.

“Right, he’s on the basketball team too,” Edward was still going.

“Man, will you shut up?” Ethan glared at him. Jess rolled her eyes. “All right, ladies,” she started, but Edward was already talking about basketball again. Then, Ethan joined in too. Jess gave me a look.

“Can you believe these idiots?” She had fallen into step next to me. I laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t know…” I trailed off. They sure were an odd pair. I looked at Jess, she was smiling at me funny.

“You have, like, a really nice laugh. Has anyone told you that?” 

Oh, shit, was she flirting with me again?

“Have girls started bothering you yet? It’s about time they started-” She got interrupted.

“JESS, STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM! WE’RE DATING!” Edward howled back at them, but jokingly.

“WELL, HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO PAIR HIM UP WITH SOMEONE?” she screeched right back.

“GODDAMNIT, JESS, THAT’S MY JOB!”

“AND WHAT A GREAT JOB YOU’RE DOING, DUMBASS!” 

I started laughing again. 

“Shove off, both of you. If I wanted to date, I’d do it myself,” I rolled my eyes at them. Jess laughed at me. 

“Seriously, though, have any girls approached you? You’re really attractive, especially compared to EDWARD-” I could see her pointedly tease towards him. “-and Valentines is coming up-” Edward groaned loudly.

“Oh, shut up, Edward!” 

“Stop reminding me, Jess!” 

As funny as they were, I was getting really tired of them all. 

“ANYWAYS, you should be expecting love letters soon, and all…” I started drowning her voice out.

Eventually, we reached where we had parked. Edward and Jess got into Edward’s ugly 1980 Chevy Citation, while Ethan hopped into the passenger's seat of my wagon. We waved as they pulled off and down the road.

“Want a smoke?” I had Pall Malls in the glove box again.

“Sure.”

I reached across him and pulled them out, lit his, then mine. 

“You wanna hotbox or should I roll the windows down?” I asked him.

“Uh, we can roll them down,” he started on his own window, so I started rolling mine down as well. Then, I started the car.

“You live in suburbia, right?” I asked him as I pulled out and into the road, flicking the lights to the wagon on. Ethan laughed a bit.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he smiled into his cigarette. I noticed his freckles. 

“You related to the Hagans or something? You and Tommy both have mad freckles,” I commented, looking back to the road.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” He looked uneasy, so I dropped it. It was Ethan to break the ice later.

“Do you think you might try for basketball?”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve never played before,” I reminded him. Ethan didn’t respond.

“I guess if given the chance, I’d try,” I offered, looking at him. He nodded. 

“Okay.” 

That was kind of it. We made small talk on the way to his house, where I dropped him off, then headed back to mine. I did a lot of thinking on the way back.

Ethan was really nice, and it was nice that we didn’t have to talk to each other constantly to get along. I think we both appreciated the silence. Jess was a pretty cool person, and even though Edward was still annoying, it was clear he was the glue that held the group together. 

I hummed on my way into the house.


	6. Achievement Two (Or Three?)

I was in Chemistry a few days later when I got called by a secretary to someone’s office. I didn’t recognize the name of who’s office it was; Terrence Hawke. Nancy Wheeler looked scandalized at the interruption, like I was in trouble. The large, but short, secretary led me down the suffocating hallways till we came up on an ugly door by the gym. The tag on the door read ‘Coach Hawke’. Having never seen the coach, I had a suspicion that he coached the basketball team; I’d been told that the basketball team was the only relevant team at school. I couldn’t guess why I had been called there. 

The dark haired secretary knocked on the door, and a loud voice answered quickly. I could hear something be slammed down as the woman opened the door, ushering me in front of her. At a very cluttered desk sat Coach Hawke. The moment that I stepped in, I could tell I was being judged, and very harshly. Coach Hawke had beady eyes that sunk into his wide face. I wondered if his face was always that sweaty. The sweat clung to his receding blonde hairline, making him look greasy. The door closed behind me, the secretary’s heels clicking off. The coach took a moment to examine me; his eyes swept over my frame, poking at my shoulders, my arms, and then my face. After a moment, he nodded, and hummed.

“How tall are you?” His voice was scratchy and I knew he smoked, but it wasn’t really low or high. 

“6’4, sir.”

He hummed and nodded again.

“Someone gave me a referral that I should check you out for sports, kid,” he gestured with a pencil he was holding in the air vaguely. “You played sports before?”

“Yeah, I played rugby in New Zealand,” I wanted to move my hands so I stuck them in my jeans.

“Your team any good? YOU any good?” He tilted his head the other way. I shrugged.

“We won our district and placed nationally, so I guess. I’m better at body slamming than anything else,” I tried to be transparent. “I didn’t handle the ball as much as others on my team, but I still had to on occasion, so I could manage. That just wasn’t my job before.”

He tapped his pencil against his desk.

“How’re your grades?”

“Fair in maths, almost straight A’s.” He looked at me funny when I said ‘maths’.

“I think I want you to try basketball this season,” he said after a long moment. “Can you move in what you’re wearing?” He looked at my jeans.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” I fidgeted my hands in my jeans.

“Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take you into the gym. There’s a class in there, but I’ve talked with Riley-” I assumed that was another coach, “-And he’s making space for us this class. You’ve been excused the rest of this period. I’m gonna run you through some drills and see if you can handle a ball, then give you the layout of the game. Understand?” He spoke really fast.

“Yessir.”

“Alright then.” He stood up. I was nearly a foot taller than him. “I think you’ll do well, even if you can’t handle the ball perfectly. You’re broad, tall, and you’ve got muscle. That’s about all we need right now, most of the other boys are pretty lanky and short. You think you can handle that?”

“Yessir.”

He walked around the desk. “Lets go, then.” He pointed out the door. I hurriedly rushed to get out of the cramped space, holding the door open for him as he left.

“Into the gym we go,” he sung gruffly, stepping out in front of me and speed walking towards the gym.

The gym was also the auditorium, I figured. It wasn’t exactly huge, but because it was an auditorium, it was bigger than a usual court and had a lot of extra space. Flags with the school colors of green and white with the tiger mascot littered the space on the walls. I noticed that the winning flags were from years ago. It looked like they hadn’t won Indiana state in anything for a very long time. Across the court were a spattering of students. They looked to be a mix of juniors and seniors, but I wasn’t sure, because I still didn’t know most of my own class.

Coach Hawke waved Coach Riley down once we stepped in, and Riley nodded, pointing us in the direction of an empty hoop. He was a very tall man, Riley, but what stood out the most was that he was black. I hadn’t seen anyone else in the town that wasn’t white. Riley blew his whistle at some kids playing with a volleyball too close to the hoop, and they rushed off the court, pausing to watch as Coach Hawke and I walked over. Really, a lot of the class were watching now, startled by the whistle. I wasn’t very excited for this now. Then again, I hadn’t been super excited before. Riley yelled at everyone to “keep going at it” once we were out of the way, and everyone turned back to their individual tasks, but I definitely knew people would be watching me now. It was stressing me out. Coach Hawke walked to the closet, conveniently near our court, and came out with a well worn basketball. It looked intimidating and hard to manipulate in comparison to a rugby ball. 

Once the coach was close enough, he bounced the ball off the ground to me. I caught it. Somehow, that simple victory gave me hope, but the bar I had set for myself was incredibly low. 

“Alright, Slade,” he called me by my last name. I cringed a little hearing it, but nodded at him.

“First rule is you can’t make more than a step if you’re holding the ball. You can pivot-” he motioned moving around on one foot “-and pass the ball, but you’ve got to dribble, which is bouncing the ball on the ground, to move with it.” He motioned a patting motion towards the ground, then gestured for me to pass it back. I flicked it off the ground directly to him.

“You don’t have to bounce it to pass, but sometimes it makes more sense than to rainbow someone who’s blocking you,” he offered, then started bouncing the ball on the ground. “This is dribbling.” He overhanded it back. “Try dribbling.”

Dribbling wasn’t as hard as I thought, and I was able to consistently keep a steady dribble that didn’t vary too much in space.

“Now move around,” Hawke folded his arms. I started walking while dribbling. No problems came up.

“Alright, now weave it through your legs while dribbling.” 

I did my best to do that, squatting slightly like I’d seen someone do before on the television.

“Nice. You’ve got okay form. Alright…” he gave me a few more commands, each one rising in difficulty. After I’d been dribbling for a while, everyone else in the gym started losing their interest in us. When I had trouble with a task he gave me, he would call for the ball and give me an example of what he wanted me to do, and compare the two. Eventually he was showing me how to shoot hoops accurately from the sides, then the three point line. He seemed to get happier and happier as we practiced, which was the only indication that I was doing anything right. If I did something wrong, he’d tell me, showing me what I was doing wrong with my wrist or whatever it was and then demonstrating the correct way in comparison. I noticed that once in a while he’d look at Riley, and I wondered what was going on. Once in a while I almost caught them communicating.

After a very long period of practicing dribbling up to the hoop and scoring (I was making it in about two-fifths of the time, but I was getting better with each throw), he had me stop to play PIG against him. He absolutely wrecked me. We played two games, then played HORSE. He still kicked my ass.

“Manage a ball my ass, Slade. You already handle it better than a third of the team,” he grumbled after a while. “God, Slade, keep up this growth of improvement and we’ll have you play point guard,” he told me, grinning. I got really proud. When I smiled in response, he laughed. “Not anytime soon, though. You’ve gotta get the concepts down still.” I just smiled and nodded. He clapped me on the back. “Alright, that’s it for right now. We’ve got practice after school, and I’d like to pair you up with some of the guys to see how you play with others before we put you on. If you do well I’ll have you up on guard first.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks, sir. I’ll come.” 

“Damn straight, Slade. You did fantastically for a first try,” he laughed again, and we were both walking out of the gym with eight minutes to spare for the period. He waved me off, telling me to have fun with the extra few minutes. I thanked him for his time before heading to my locker. 

“Wait-” he suddenly called, and I spun around.

“I forgot to mention; Riley’s head coach of the team. It’s not me you’ll be impressing, it’s him,” he grinned at me. 

Oh shit.

“Cheated a little, tricking you into putting on a show for him back there,” he continued, then laughed.

Coach Riley was intimidating. Not because he was black, hell, I knew I was intimidating because of the way I looked, too, but because he was the tallest guy I’d seen in Hawkins. I’d also noticed he had a mean glare, not to mention that I had no idea what he was like. There was just something about Coach Hawke that made him more like someone’s dad than Coach Riley.

“Then who’re you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, dumbstruck.

“I coach everything else, but still assistant coach basketball. You’ll see me around.” And with that, he was back in his office.

It took me a few moments to gather myself for what was to come after school before once again heading to my locker. I had gym clothes in there somewhere, but I wanted to double check that they were there before the end of school. 

The rest of the day left me sweaty in fear of what would come. I was excited, but in all the worst ways, and the stress of it had two teachers call me out for not paying attention in class. I didn’t like talking about it, but I hated auditioning for things, had awful stage fright, and didn’t like showing my skills in front of other people. I had had a lot of bad experiences with that before. It was fine already on a team; I had people backing me up, and I could play things safe if I was nervous. If it was just me? I got anxious about dumb shit really fast. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of my classmates. I was new, and I’d been trying really hard to not come across as a lot of things already, least of all athletically lacking. I couldn’t imagine what could happen to me if I made a fool of myself. In middle school, I’d already been through that experience.

The practice came much too soon for my liking. I pointedly avoided the team by getting ready in the locker rooms early and stepping outside by the doors to wait for everyone to show up, smoking a Pall Mall again. It was cold, so not only was I smoking to calm my nerves, I was smoking to keep warm in my gym clothes. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be joined by anyone before practice.

I was startled out of my thoughts of what could go wrong at practice by someone slamming the door open, nearly making me drop my cigarette. Spinning, I turned on the guy, also in gym clothes. The guy was shorter than myself with short, brown hair and freckles, nursing his own Reds pack and lighter as he stepped out into the chilly air. He looked surprised to see me.

“You’re new?” He asked blankly. His voice was immediately annoying. 

“Yeah,” I mouthed around my fag. He looked at me funny, then scowled and turned away.

“Of course they’d ask you to try for the team,” he grumbled to himself, but very audibly. I tried very, very hard not to say something that would get me in some deep shit.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t want to get into a fight, but there was no way in hell I was gonna let him say some shit and get away with it. He smiled at me, but glared with his eyes. They were very unkind. I knew we weren’t going to get along.  
“Oh, nothing. You’re just gonna have it really easy here, buddy,” he snickered. I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck off, man. I’m not in the mood today.” I tried to come across as non-confronting as possible. He just laughed at me, then suddenly held out his hand.

“I’m Tommy.”

I was surprised and offended, but I shook his hand anyways. 

“James.”

“Where're you from? You’ve got an accent,” he pulled his hand back.

“New Zealand.” I didn’t offer him anything else. 

“Okay. I’ll be watching you today, James.” His smile dropped. I had no idea what the hell he meant but I didn’t like it. I didn’t get to ask what he meant as he stomped his way back into the building. I watched him go, putting my fag out on the brick of the school before discarding it into the bin by the doors. He joined some other guys coming out of the locker room, briefly looking back at me before heading into the gym. I guessed that it was about time that I forced myself back inside. 

Once inside, I stopped outside the gym doors, sticking my hands in my shorts. I could see Hawke and Riley already inside through the door, talking by the closet on the far end. Some guys were getting out balls for drills, some were already passing. A few were dribbling into shots on the far hoop. I sighed very long and hard before pushing the door open and trying to sneak around the court towards the coaches. Immediately, a few of the guys stopped, most staring as I made my way over. Only a few didn’t seem very concerned, or at least didn’t care too much, only taking small glances before getting back into whatever they were doing. One of the guys wolf whistled at me. 

“Hey honey, that ass gonna hold up on court?” He called at me. A few of the guys around him snickered, and I recognized Tommy next to him. I rolled my eyes at him.

“My ass is my best feature, thank you very much,” I laughed at him. Some of the guys laughed with me. I felt myself warming up a little more to the atmosphere. Some of the guys on the rugby team had been like this. 

Maybe this was going to be like the rugby team?

Riley and Hawke looked up at the commotion, then, seeing me, called me over.

“Hop on over, Slade,” Hawke beckoned. I took my hands out of my shorts and walked over as fast as wouldn’t make me look odd.

“We haven’t been properly introduced.” The deep voice forced me to look up at Coach Riley. Luckily, Coach Hawke took the initiative. 

“This is James Slade. Slade, this is your coach, Derrick Riley.”

I gave him my hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He grasped my hand hard.

“I hope you live up to my expectations,” he said, staring into my soul. I think I visibly gulped as my hopes for practice plummeted. 

“I hope so too, sir,” I tried to save face, but I knew I looked scared. I tried to cover by looking around at the team. I noticed there was another black guy on the team, but the rest of the team was white, as expected. Coach Riley noticed my uncertain expression.

“Let’s introduce you to the team, Slade.” He promptly blew his whistle. Everyone froze, every ball caught, the gym suddenly silent, squeaking of shoes and chatter gone.

“Team, this is Slade. He’s going to be on the team this year, if I can convince him.” 

What?

“Play easy on him, he hasn’t played much basketball before. I’m told he’s played harder contact sports.” 

Oh boy. I could already see some of the guys’ expressions changing rapidly.

“He’ll mostly be shadowing today, but I’ll put him in a few drills today with some of you guys. Harrington?” He called. I recognized the name. A guy with really fluffy, long brown hair stood up straight.

“Yes, sir?” 

“He’ll be following you around today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” Coach Riley trailed off into some instructions that were unfamiliar to me. Once he was done, he blew his whistle again, and the team was moving into pairs to practice a drill. I rushed over to Harrington at Riley’s suggestion. When I headed over, Harrington looked apprehensively at me. 

“You gonna cause any problems this year, Slade?” He asked sharply. I had no idea what he had up his ass, but I assumed he was just having a bad day.

“Uh, no. Not planning on it,” I stuck my hands behind my back, trying to not look intimidating. He warily looked up at me, then turned away.

“Alright. Sorry, we’ve just had some problems with newbies this year already,” he muttered, and I knew something had gone down with the team. I looked around briefly, assessing where Harrington was looking. He was staring at a guy on the court, twenty yards from us, with a deeper tan than the rest of the guys (the exception being the black guy) and bouncing, curly blonde hair. He had a strange, wild energy, and I watched with Harrington as he threw a ball at his partner viciously, laughing loudly as the poor guy struggled to catch it. I looked back at Harrington, and he looked back at me.

“That the problem?” 

“Uh, yeah, that’d be him. Kicked the shit out of me earlier this school year,” Harrington surprisingly admitted. 

“He didn’t get kicked off?” I asked, incredulously. He shook his head.

“Naw. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” He bounced the ball in his hand nervously a few times. I looked back at the other guy.

“If he intimidates you, I can help,” I offered, not knowing how Harrington would respond. When he didn’t say anything immediately, I continued. “Just, if you like. I’ve had some experience in fights, is all, and he seems like a douchebag,” I smiled at him. He looked surprised.

“Oh, uh,” he started getting flustered. “I, well, I wouldn’t, oh, what the hell. Sure, man, I appreciate it,” he nodded. I got the feeling that he wasn’t exactly buddies with others on the team.

“No problem at all, mate.” I slapped his back, then regretted it as he stumbled from my blow. Didn’t think I’d hit him that hard. 

“Okay. Yeah, uh, I’ll walk you through the team while we’re warming up, alright?” He offered, turning to a guy on the team left without a partner. 

“While I’m moving, watch my feet and my hands. It’s a bad habit to be looking down, but I’m guessing you don’t know the placements yet.” It was like a switch had flipped in Harrington, and I recognized why I was paired up with him after he started talking while practicing with the other guy.

“Later, once you’re familiar enough with the ball, you’ll need to practice looking up constantly and only looking at the ball if someone else has it,” he continued, passing the ball and dribbling around with the other guy. 

“Watch my head and eyes for a bit while I pass and while Simmons has the ball,” he called, and I watched as he looked at Simmons, eyes only touching the ball once it left his hands. When Simmons passed it back, he started doing a few dribbling practices, turning to me as he did them.

“Watch my head. See that I’m looking at you? Can you see that?” He was staring straight at me as he moved the ball around, dribbling through his legs and turning in circles.

“Yeah, I see you.”

“Great. That’s the kind of focus you’ll need when you have the ball.” He passed the ball back to Simmons. 

“Move the ball for a bit, Simmons,” he told them, and Simmons nodded, doing a few drills himself. Harrington moved to make himself ready for the ball.

“See this stance? This is the stance you want when you’re in the game. My eyes are up, staring at Simmons, right? But they’re also following the ball. Follow the ball and judge where he’s going to go next by his eyes and hands. Constantly be ready to block or grab the ball, if he’s on the other team. If he’s a teammate, always make yourself open for a pass. That will mean evading your guard, if he’s on you, and constantly weaving.” Harrington started moving from side to side in a zig-zag motion, varying the length of his movements to make them unpredictable. When Simmons passed him the ball, Harrington grabbed it smoothly, bringing the dribbling into his movements. 

“Saw that? That’s what we’re going to work up to.” He passed the ball to me, looking expectantly.

“Since we can, we’ll play a bit of monkey in the middle. I’ll lightly defend while you try to work with Simmons, okay? Right now just focus on teamwork, and maybe incorporate some of what I just showed you.”

“Okay.” I was determined to do this right. I got down into the stance Harrington had showed me, and he smiled. I smiled back. Dribbling the ball, I slowly started to move around, trying to anticipate how Harrington would move. I tried to keep my eyes up on him and Simmons, a few times accidentally looking down at the unfamiliar ball. Every time I did, Harrington kindly reminded me to look up. I should've known better; after all, we didn’t look at the ball in rugby unless we weren’t holding it, just like any other sport, but the ball still felt very different. Luckily, I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it. After I grew more comfortable with Harrington following my dribbling and making a few moves at me to get the ball, I started looking more at an opening to pass to Simmons. When I saw one, I took it, underhanding the ball and bouncing it to him, just outside of Harrington’s outstretched hands. 

“Nice, Slade!” Harrington grinned at me. I felt very happy with the small achievement. 

After practicing a bit more, Simmons and I started giving each other signals to avoid Harrington’s hands, Harrington getting increasingly more aggressive with how I was improving. A half hour later and we were both doing a pretty good job of it, Harrington starting to sweat. Eventually Coach Riley whistled at everyone to start another drill, but told us to keep going at it for a bit longer, telling Harrington that he was “doing a solid job”, to “move on” when he felt the need, and to “keep giving me pointers” while we worked. I guessed that he was giving Harrington the role of training me for the time being, just like he had with Coach Hawke. Eventually, Harrington moved us on to incorporating scoring into the drill, having Simmons and I score on him. Harrington played more aggressively than ever, and I knew that soon he wasn’t going to be holding back.

“Damn, Slade, you’re learning fast,” he puffed as I scored on him. Simmons and I hi-fived each other, enjoying the brief moment of brotherhood as we worked on Harrington. Harrington himself got some goals in too, but for the most part, Simmons and I were working pretty well together. Harrington would keep giving me tips and remind me about foot stance or hand placement on the ball while scoring. His tips were almost more helpful than Coach Hawkes, who popped over a few times to give in his own two cents. A few times I accidentally knocked Harrington over, but I made sure to help him up as I’d seen the others do. 

By the end of practice, all three of us were pretty sweaty, excited to hit the showers. All were in a pretty good mood, too. I was starting to get to know Simmons; he was a senior, had a girlfriend in cheer, and was awful in school, but pretty nice overall. Harrington was really chill, poking fun at us once in a while, but all in good fun, lightening the mood. 

Hitting the warm showers felt fantastic after the work we’d put in. I cozied up to Harrington pretty fast, electing to shower next to him than someone else I didn't’ know as well.

“So,” I started up a conversation after rubbing a large amount of soap in my hair. “I don’t think I caught your first name.”

“Oh, call me Steve,” he said, rubbing the generic school soap into his own hair. So, he WAS Jonathan’s Harrington. “Don’t think I caught yours either,” he put the soap down.

“My name’s James. Nice to play with you today.”

“Yeah, man, it was nice,” he grinned at me. “You’re doing amazing for someone who hasn’t really played before. Are you sure you haven’t?”

“The first time I touched a basketball was today with Coach Hawke,” I told him, and his eyes widened.

“NO WAY, you’re pulling my hair, James, there’s no way,” he gaped.

“Naw, I’ve only really played rugby and football before. Not American football, but internationally recognized football.” 

Steve just stared at me.

“That’s incredible, man. You’re already pretty good and you’ve only played for a day.”

I shrugged. Suddenly, Steve yelped, hands thrust in his face.

“SHIT,” he yelled, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck you, James, I got soap in my eyes because of you!”

I laughed really heavily, drawing a little attention from some of the other guys. Tommy leered a bit at Steve.

“Aw, did the little princess get soap in his eyes again?” He grinned evilly at Steve. I looked at Steve.

“Does this happen often?” I asked. 

Steve groaned at me, still rubbing his eyes. Tommy laughed.

“Stevie here is a little clumsy to be a team captain,” he squinted at me. I looked back at Steve, who looked very uncomfortable, then at Tommy. Tommy was just standing there, completely in the nude. I decided to get rid of him.

“Get your small dick out of here and into some clothes, Tommy,” I poked at him. Steve elbowed me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the curly blondie look up from another showerhead. Surprisingly, Tommy just muttered something as he walked away, almost as if he was embarrassed. Steve elbowed me again as I watched him go.

“Don’t start a fight, he’s an asshole,” he muttered at me. I put my hands up.

“Alright, captain,” I smiled back. Steve tried to roll his eyes, then groaned in pain again as they stung. I lightly shoved his head under the water, ruffling his hair, and when he came back up, I shrugged at him and started rinsing out my own hair. Steve grumbled something at me but I just laughed. Looking away, I caught the eyes of the blondie. He was looking straight at me. I stared right back.

“Don’t look, but curly blonde is staring at me,” I mumbled to Steve. Steve immediately shot his head up, so I shoved him back under the shower head. 

“What did I just say,” I muttered at him. Steve glared at me, eyes red.

“Goddamnit, dude, really?” 

I looked back up, but blondie was looking away.

“Why would blondie be staring at me?” I asked him quietly.

“Probably because you told Tommy to leave. They’ve kind of riding each other’s dicks right now,” he grimaced. I made a face. 

“Wait, no, I meant like figuratively,” Steve defended. 

“I don’t care if they are, I just want to know if he’s going to cause any problems.”

“Uh, well, okay. I mean, Hargrove might try to edge you into a fight? That’s the new guy who kicked my ass,” Steve helpfully added. 

“Okay,” I mumbled, not too worried. Hargrove hadn’t looked particularly mad when he had stared. 

“Uh, don’t tell anyone I said this, but Hargrove is kind of the best one on the team since he moved here. I feel a little responsible with what happened before, even if he put me in the hospital-”

“-What the HELL, Steve-”

“-But don’t let him start shit, because we kind of need him this season,” Steve finished. I stared at him. Even though he was stupid as fuck, I had to respect the guy’s thought process. I could tell that the game was important to him, and I expected nothing less of a team captain. I was starting to get a good idea of his personality. I liked him. For some reason, I was getting along better with him than I had with Edward and the others. Whatever was happening with us wasn’t forced at all like it was with Edward. I didn’t feel like I had to hide my personality with Steve, and it was nice.

“Okay, I won’t start anything. Or let him start anything,” I added, turning off my showerhead and reaching for a towel. 

“You know, Edward said Hargrove might be queer?” I asked quietly, connecting the dots. Steve looked shocked.

“What?” 

“Nevermind. Just, someone suggested he might be gay. Also said he was pretty popular, so I don’t know how true that was,” I shrugged, pulling the towel around my waist.

“Oh, uh, no, yeah, Hargrove is pretty popular. Kind of the head spot right now, actually.” Steve shut off his own shower, grabbing his own towel.

“Oh.” I thought about it; I supposed Hargrove was attractive enough to be "popular".

It fell silent for a bit between us both. We watched a few of the guys chatting from a distance, listening to the sound of the showers shutting on and off. 

“Well, man, I’d love it if you decided to stay on. We could use you,” Steve broke the silence. I nodded.

“I think I will, if I can. I think it'll be interesting.” 

We both moved to our respective lockers, pulling out our clothes and dressing. After we were done, we said our goodbyes, and headed out. 

Before I could escape, Coach Riley pulled me into his office, right next to Coach Hawke’s office. Coach Hawke was already inside.

“You did real well today, kid,” Riley started. I looked up at him. This was the moment of truth.

“We’re going to put you on, if you’d like to join the team. You were working pretty well with Simmons and Harrington, and we were, to say the least, impressed.” Riley looked down at me. I was surprised at the sudden praise. 

“Uh, yeah, I’d like to stay on,” I decided after a moment. Riley smiled, teeth bright. 

“Alright, Slade,” he said, slapping my back. Coach Hawke grabbed something off the desk.

“Just sign these and you’re good to go, kid,” Hawke smiled at me. I nodded, grabbing the papers and pen out of his hand. There was only one place so sign, something about commitment and liability. I hurriedly signed it after skimming over the paper, passing it back to him.

“For more official stuff, we’ll talk to you later, but for now, you’re on,” Riley continued, then sat at his desk. “You’re good to go for today.”

“Thanks, sir,” I smiled, backing out of the door. Once out, I squealed a bit, happy at the outcome of what had just happened. 

I was on the team.

Luckily, no one from the team was around to see my mini victory dance. 

I had to tell Edward, Ethan, and Jess.


	7. Mistakes Were Made

It was the weekend again. Saturday, specifically, and I was right back around to doing dumb shit by myself. By dumb shit, I mean wandering around town and the woods.

The main reason I had decided to go back to the woods by the Byers’ was because I wanted to know if the body was still there, and I couldn’t control myself. I really wanted to explore what the hell it was and figure out what was going on. An additional reason I kept telling myself was that it was one of the only things to do in this hicktown, and I’d be damned before I did something actually productive. 

Like Byers had suggested, I parked near his house down Piney Lane. I was glad to see that neither of their cars were in the driveway of their house, but I knew that Byers was right in parking my car there, just in case something did happen. Like a dumbass, I had gone out at night after dinner, and only a little light was seeping past their porch and onto their front lawn. I could see just a little inside; it was pretty trashed, and I felt bad to admit it at the time, because I could tell they weren’t exactly rich. There was a light on somewhere inside, but no movement from the windows. Just in case someone was home, I shut the wagon door as quietly as I could. This time, I only took my flashlight and keys, leaving the cigarettes behind (an unintentional lapse of forgetfulness that I’d find I’d regret). Taking one last look at the house, I trudged around to the back, only turning the flashlight on after I was behind the treeline. When I passed the Byers dog laying down in the bushes (an unexpected and startling experience), he had just looked up at me silently, tilting his head, as though he was trying to guess what I was doing back behind his house at night. I just waved goodbye at him and kept going.

My arm was doing pretty good. Once in a while, a scab would start peeling, or something would crack in the arid air, bleeding just a little, but for the most part, it was healing nicely and quickly. It was definitely going to scar. I was glad none of the guys on the court had mentioned anything about it when I’d shown up to practice in a t-shirt. The practice after my try-out had gone well, and I’d been paired with Simmons most of the time, Steve working with some of the other guys. My learning curve hadn’t plateaued yet, and I was doing pretty great against Simmons in a 1 v 1 most of the practice. When I’d told my dad that I’d joined the team and was doing pretty well, he hadn’t said much except that I was doing only what he’d expected me to do. 

Jonathan had been right; there were a few small trails leading off into the woods, only lightly lined against the light of my flashlight. I picked a fairly centered and well-worn one that I thought might lead me back to the weird fort. My thoughts were distracted, focused much more on how odd Byers was, what Steve was like, and how to fit in with the team rather than on what I was doing in the woods.

It took me about thirty minutes into the trees to realize that I’d lost the trail. I hadn’t done something so stupid in years.

“Oh shit. Oh, shit,” I mumbled, flashing my light around as I looked for something that signaled where someone had walked before. 

“You know what? This is fine. This is fine, I can just turn in the general direction of the Byers. I can do that,” I paused. “I could probably keep going and be fine. I’ll be fine, right?” I tried to convince myself. I stopped moving and looked ahead in the direction I’d been moving. 

“Let’s see…” my thoughts trailed off. I knew I wasn’t going in the direction of the fort anymore, as the trail had been veering to the left of the Byers and into thicker woods. 

“Well, I won’t be finding the body tonight.” I shrugged and thought for a bit longer. The silence of the woods was growing more and more apparent, the stomping of my shoes no longer filling the silence of the journey. I knew I should probably get going before I started freaking myself out again like the time before. 

“Okay. This is fine.”

I started off again, more vigilantly shining light through the trees ahead and occasionally turning around to check my back. 

I had been expecting a warning, like I had last time. I had expected the feeling of danger. I had been leaning on the expectation that my sixth sense would catch something stalking me again. 

That didn’t happen.

It occurred too fast for my eyes to catch. All I knew was that my arm was on fire again, much like the night before, and something was gripping me, holding me into the ground I’d suddenly been slammed down into, my body flung around like I was an anorexic high school girl that weighed eighty pounds. My flashlight had been snapped out of my grip by the force of the hit. I couldn’t breathe, the pain in my arm blooming into something that hadn’t reached these heights in the last attack, then spreading up and into my shoulder. I kicked hard, screaming. I didn’t get the chance to choose fight or flight this time. I couldn’t see whatever was on me, but I knew that it wasn’t bothered by my kicks or noise, latching hard onto my writhing arm. I swung harder than I’d ever swung before, wrenching my other arm out of its grip, and hitting directly onto my arm. The thing groaned a bit, and I felt more pain explode in my arm as it clenched tighter. I swung again, harder. And again. And again. I was trying to beat the thing to a pulp like I had before, but this time, it wasn’t working as well. With each hit it sunk its teeth in deeper, and with each hit, I was screaming louder. I started kicking and swinging at the same time, just trying to get my arm out of its grip. I still couldn’t see anything. My flashlight was off to the side, and somewhere out of my sight behind the dark mass on top of me.

Oh.

It was on top of me.

In one huge exert of energy, I rolled over, forcing the thing to the ground till it was under me. It started kicking. With the force of the roll, I had wrenched my arm out a little, but it was still hanging onto it by just a few teeth. For some reason, all I could think about was being able to play next practice as I hit it again and again, until the damn thing started letting go. I knew my shins were a mess, but it was survival of the fittest right then. 

I could sort of see it in the dim light of the flashlight now; it was way bigger than the other thing had been, with longer, stronger legs and a larger, harder head. This thing was more experienced in hunting than the other had been. For some reason, it was closer to civilization than the other had been.

I don’t know how long it took to get my arm out of its grip completely. When I did, I jumped up, grabbed my flashlight, and started running. I knew it was a bad idea to turn my back on the thing, but I knew that I might not win this time. My hits weren’t going as deep and my arms were getting tired, the pain getting stronger and stronger with each shake the thing sent through my body. I wondered what kind of damage the creature could do to someone who wasn’t as strong and practiced as me, to someone like Jonathan or Steve, let alone someone so small as Nancy or Jess. I wasn’t even sure if I could get away from it. It was heavily concerning as I raced in the direction of the Byers house.

“FUCK!” I screamed as it grabbed my back from behind, ripping through my windbreaker, but now I could see some light through the trees. I spun around, smacking it with the flashlight repeatedly until it let go again. 

“Fucking- leT- GO-you-CUNT-” I yelled loudly as I smacked and kicked the shit out of it. It was really strong. Last time I’d killed whatever it was by hitting it in the face, so I put all of my energy into doing just that. The extra edge the metal of the flashlight gave me gave me a much needed boost to break through its skin, which was much harder than the other thing’s skin had been. I heard barking as the Byers dog started crashing through the trees towards us. I could hear it whine as it latched onto one of the thing’s legs. I was immediately grateful.

“Thanks, buddy,” I gasped out as I kept grabbing at the thing and hitting it. I just hoped the thing wasn’t going to kill it because of me. 

After a long moment of growling and the sound of the flashlight smashing its way through the thing’s skin, the thing let go and started off, slowly, back into the trees. I might have cried just a little when it did. I shone my light on it as it retreated, grasping at trees to keep itself up before crawling on all fours. I had to hold the shaggy dog back from attacking it again. I really didn’t want the dog to die, we were friends now. Once the thing was gone, I started crying harder, and hugged the hell out of the dog.

“Thanks, man,” I sobbed into his fur. The dog just wagged his tail at me. After ten minutes of hard crying into the dog, I slowly forced my wrecked body up and started off towards the house again, the dog following me closely. Once we got close enough to the house, the dog went ahead, sitting on the back porch under a light. I could see my own blood dripping off his white fur. I just hoped Jonathan wouldn’t be too mad at me. Thanking the dog again, I started shuffling around the house, but stopped when I heard a small gasp.

There, walking a bike up to the house, was a kid. A kid with Jonathan’s haircut and very big, white eyes, staring at my figure as I approached from behind the house. I ignored him. There was no way in hell I was dealing with anything else that night. Instead of acknowledging the kid, I ran to my car, wrenching the door open and keying the ignition so fast that the poor kid jumped. With that, I was swerving out of the dead end and down Piney Lane.

It was really rough getting home between the thrashed arm, tears running down my face from the pain, and slimy, blood-covered, one-handed manual driving. Whatever had just happened had been much worse than had happened before, and I wasn't even sure if I’d done the thing in this time. That was the worst part. I felt like I’d failed.

What if it’s still alive?

What if it goes after someone else?

What if… oh God. What if it went after the kid?

I hoped that the dog would help the kid if anything happened, and that they’d be able to survive before someone else showed up to help should the thing attack again. I definitely wouldn’t have if I’d stuck around. 

I was shaking with pain slamming my way back into the house. As expected, my mum was back at the table, sipping a cup of tea which smashed into the ground when I practically fell through the door.

“What the HELL-” she stopped when she saw me.

“What did you do.” Her voice was dark and quiet. I could barely see her glaring at me through the tears.

“Are you- are you CRYING?” she shrieked. It wasn’t a nice sound. I heard stomping from the hallway to the right, and soon my dad was forcing himself into the room.

“No. I’m not crying,” I mumbled. My dad took one look at me and slapped me. The hit shook me harder than the pain.

“You do not cry in this house,” he breathed into my face when I looked away. I tried my hardest not to sob again.

“You’re- you’re getting blood on the carpet,” mum complained, “and you made me drop my tea,” she hissed. 

“You care about the CARPET?” I asked, incredulously. Dad immediately shoved my head down.

“Look at what you’ve done.” 

I looked down. I sure was getting blood on the carpet. I wiped my arm on my pants, trying and failing to ignore the pain that spiked through my arm as I did so.

Dad forced my face back up, looking into my eyes.

“What did you do.”

“Animal in the woods again.” It was very hard not to whimper. Dad looked down at my arm.

“You kill it again?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you let it do this, it looks worse than last time,” he growled

“It was much bigger and faster this time.” 

“This happens again, and there will be consequences, you understand?” He looked back up at me. I nodded.

“You are going to clean up your mess. Then, you are going to clean up the tea and blood out of the carpet. I am not going to see you cry again. Am I clear?” His voice was dangerously quiet. I nodded. 

“I want a vocal answer, Te Tangaroa.” He got closer, gripping my face harder.

“Yes, sir.” 

He dropped my face in disgust, then stalked back down the hallway. I covered my face with my good hand, trying not to let mum see my reaction. 

She laughed at me.

“Not much of a man, coming in here like that,” she poked at me, shaking her head. “You should know better than to cry. You know your father doesn’t like that.” 

I knew I was shaking again, so I left. I walked up the stairs to the bathroom. Trying to see myself in the mirror, I had to wipe the blood and tears from my face. It was gruesome. Blood was wiped all over my features from where my hands had been. Blood was soaked through my jeans, ruining them. My arm was a huge mess. I turned a little, looking at my back. My windbreaker was shredded from when the thing had grabbed me behind, a little bit of blood seeping through cuts from the grab. 

“Oh, shit,” I whimpered, and I knew I had to get out of the house. I ran back down the stairs and out the kitchen door into the backyard, breathing hard and fast, slamming the door hard behind me. I sank to my knees fast, trying to control my breathing before I started crying again. Mum followed me out in a hurry.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Te Ta.” She kicked at me lightly. “You are not conducting yourself as a man. Get up.” I spun on her.

“Back off,” I hissed back. “Just, not right now,” I gasped, losing my breath again, falling on my hands. Mum gasped at me, scandalized.

“How DARe you speak to ME like-”

“-I hATE Hawkins,” I spat. “I HATE the town, I HATE the people, I HATE the SCHOOL, I HATE the FOOD, and I HATE THAT STUPID FUCKING WALNUT TABLE-”

“DON’T YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT MY WALNUT TABLE, TE-”

“IT DOESN’T MATCH THE FUCKING ROOM!” I screamed. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed, falling head into the grass and clenching my hair in my hands, tearing at it. Mum kept screaming back at me some shit about language and being a man. After a bit I switched unconsciously to scream-sobbing, then just sobbing limp on the ground.

After a while, mum stomped herself back into the house, leaving me outside. I cried a bit more before following her in. I could hear her whispering to dad down the hall, but I didn’t want to know what they were saying about me, so I just walked back to my room and started peeling my clothes off, wrapping my arm up in my ripped windbreaker before making my way into the bathroom to shower the blood off.

After I’d composed myself enough, I walked back down the stairs to clean the carpet and clean up mum’s teacup shards. I was lucky I didn’t cut myself on any of them. It took me an hour to get the blood out of the carpet. Neither mum nor dad came out of their room downstairs, and I knew they had gone to bed for the night.

Good riddance. I don’t think I could have handled cleaning up with them in my presence. 

I probably cried myself to sleep, but I don’t really remember. I just remember mum screaming at me to wake up in time for church the next morning, because, and I quote, “I don’t give a damn about how tired you are, you get your ass down here and ready to praise the Lord”. 

Church was a nightmare. I aggressively wrapped my arm in bandages, but somehow my arm was still bleeding enough to show through seven layers of gauze. I knew I needed stitches but I would never ask my parents to do that for me. Everyone noticed how much of a mess I looked like; mum’s new friends wouldn’t stop bugging me into telling them what happened. I told them all it was an animal in the woods. They asked where; I told them off the unnamed road. I didn’t mention the Byers because I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. Eventually they let up buggering me after realizing they wouldn’t get any more information out of me. Susan Hargrove was nice about it, and I recognized that she must be Hargrove’s mum, because Hargrove happened to be in church today. She was kind enough to turn the subject to basketball.

“William told me you joined the basketball team, how are you liking it so far?” She smiled at me sweetly. I wished she had been my mum instead of the one I had.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m really liking it. It’s been fun playing so far, though I’m not exactly practiced at it yet,” I told her, ignoring my mum’s dissatisfaction with not being the center of attention. 

“William said you’re pretty good at it already.” At her words, I looked over to Hargrove. He was looking over, but looked away when I caught his eyes, curls bouncing as he turned his head. 

“That’s awfully nice of him, I don’t think I’m quite up to speed yet,” I smiled at Susan. She smiled back.

“I hope you’ll be good friends.”

I paused. What an odd thing to say.

“I hope so, too,” I said, quieter. It was true; if Hargrove and I got along, it was all the better for our teamwork, but I hadn’t even spoken to him once yet. The only thing I knew about him was that he looked like a different person outside of school. 

Susan seemed satisfied with that, turning back to the others and joining in a new conversation with my mum. I covered my arm with my sleeve to the best of my ability to discourage any more comments.

After the service, I was on my way out when someone grabbed my good shoulder.

It was Hargrove.

“Um, hey,” I said, looking at him funny. I knew I looked confused. “Hargrove, right?” I asked, sticking my hand out. He surprisingly took it.

“Yeah. You’re Slade?” He looked at my arm. 

“James,” I tried. He looked up and smiled.

“Billy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. Hey, I noticed you had some nasty scars last week,” he gestured at my arm. I laughed and rolled up my sleeve. For some reason, I trusted him enough to show him my new ones. He whistled when he saw them.

“Damn, James, those are pretty bad,” he smiled wildly like he did on court. 

“Yeah. Wild animal in the woods. I won, though,” I added on. He chuckled at that.

“Uh, you think you’ll still be good to play this week?” He tilted his head a bit, and I saw a bit of the smirk he usually had plastered on his face at school.

“Should be good, yeah. Just a flesh wound, am I right?” I laughed. He smiled.

“Alright, James.” He slapped my back, hand lingering a bit.

“About Harrington…” he trailed off, looking away, then shook his head a little. “Nevermind. Just, I don’t know what he’s told you-”

“-That you beat the shit out of him?” I interrupted. He froze.

“Uh, yeah, that.” He pulled his hand back. He didn’t look at my face. “Listen, what happened back then was an awkward situation. I’m not planning on it ever happening again.” He stuck his hands in his jeans.

“You could tell him that. He’s got an edge about it,” I informed him, curious as to what he would say. He shook his head.

“Naw, that ship has sailed.” I looked at his face. Was he intimidated by me? I could tell he was hiding something, like an emotion, but it was gone as soon as he looked back at me when I spoke.

“I’m kind of friends with Steve now, but I’m down to be friendly with you, too, if there’s no problem with what happened before,” I offered. His eyes widened slightly, but he hid it quickly. 

“I’d be down,” he smiled like he did at school. He nodded.

“I’m going to head out,” he looked past me at Susan and who I assumed was his sister and dad “I’ll see you on the court, man.” He slapped my shoulder again, and I watched his shirt fly open a bit wider than before. Distracted by his necklace, I missed what he said next, having to ask him to repeat it.

“Just, you’ve got a cool accent, man,” he grinned.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as he walked away. I watched him as he walked away, trying hard not to stare at how tight his jeans were or the way his earring glinted in the light.

Yeah, he looked pretty gay as hell. 

Confused, I turned back to my parents, following them out and back home.


	8. I'm Not Sure I Like Her, But It's Too Quick to Judge

I got over the pain in my arm really fast. I had to, anyway, to be able to keep playing and not worry anyone about it. The biggest problem was with how gross it looked, and the fact that it had to air out a lot more than last time. 

My arm lasted the trip into school fine with my thinner windbreaker over it, but it became pretty clear that it wasn’t going to last the entire day under a wrap. It trapped in heat like hell, gross juices oozing out of it when it was kept too moist. I lasted till lunch before I had to take my jacket off. Ethan had immediately looked grossed out, almost puking, Jess telling me it looked fucking cool and Edward telling me that I was a dumbass for walking around alone at night in the weird neck of woods. I had told them it was an animal attack.

Knowing I’d have to cover it for practice with the extra gauze in my bag, I figured that the more I let it air before practice, the better it would fair while playing, so I decided to keep the jacket off through chemistry.

That turned out to be a mistake.

I’d already gotten some stares. No one seemed to recognize the marks (at least, the ones brave enough to mention it), but the look on Nancy Wheeler’s face told me everything I needed to know and more. She was a whirlwind of trouble the moment I stepped through the classroom door. To be honest, she kind of lost her goddamn mind. I was completely underprepared for her reaction; she hadn’t really talked to me before, she didn’t care that other people were staring, and she didn’t care about what was coming out of her mouth.

“JAMES-” she gasped, eyes huge and bugging wide as I sat next to her heavily. Almost everyone turned to look at us.

“Listen, Wheeler-”

“JAMES.” she repeated, ignoring me and looking away from my arm at my face.

“NANCY,” I mocked her, and she glared.

“Where did you get that,” she said, much too loudly for a classroom.

“Woods by Byers’ place,” I tried to say quietly to de-escalate Wheeler’s reaction. It didn’t really work.

“What the HELL were you-”

“NANCY, not now. Give me hell after class, alright?” 

“Absolutely NOT, this CANNOT wait-” 

I slammed my hand on her desk, getting her attention.

“After. Class. Wheeler. Hell, get Jonathan in on it, just NOT. NOW.” I stared into her eyes, unblinking. After a hot second she blinked and nodded.

“Okay.”

And that was it. It took another moment for the stares to subside, Nancy’s exclamations attracting attention to my arm.

“Wheeler, it would’ve been nice if you hadn’t attracted attention,” I told her quietly. She huffed a bit but didn’t respond. I hadn’t really expected her to. Luckily enough, the only other person to comment on it was the teacher, and she didn’t have much to say. It was mostly to the point of “don’t get yourself into more trouble” (though I don’t think she meant it in a threatening way, more like she was almost concerned). 

Based on Wheeler’s reaction, I was almost more scared about the confrontation with her and Jonathan than I had been for basketball. Almost. I soon found out that I should’ve been much, much more afraid of Jonathan and Nancy than I had been of Coach Hawke and Coach Riley. Instead of a simple, short conversation or explanation after class, they literally dragged me off to the bleachers on the outside, empty and icey football field. Well, under the bleachers. I wondered if this was where Byers smoked the weed he obviously did on a regular basis. They’d barely given me time to grab my windbreaker and stuff my shit in my locker. Jonathan looked upset, but I couldn’t tell why or how. Was he angry? Sad? Concerned? No one would ever know. Wheeler just looked aggressive. I was surprised when she turned on Jonathan first.

“So, JONATHAN,” she started, huddled in her sweater and felt jacket. I could have scooped the tension rolling off of her. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him? What happened to that, huh?” Her eyes were digging into Jonathan’s soul.

“Wait, what-” I was interrupted.

“Nancy, I can’t just FOLLOW HIM AROUND,” Jonathan shrunk into his fleeced dark denim.

“How about you explain why you two,” I poked a finger at both of them, “would keep an eye on ME?” I was ignored again.

“Oh, let me guess, he just SHOWED UP right when you HAPPENED to be at WORK.” Nancy’s hands were moving around fast. I really didn’t want to be here if they were just going to have a lover’s spat.

“Yes, Nancy, that’s EXACTLY what he did.” I kind of felt bad for Jonathan, but I felt worse for how cold I was getting in my thin windbreaker.

“Listen, guys, I’m just going to go-” I turned, but Wheeler fucking GRABBED my WINDBREAKER and yanked me into the next week back in place. 

“Don’t move, I swear-” now she was on me instead of Jonathan.

“-Why the hell am I even here?” I tried again, my windbreaker still in her hand. I yanked it back, and she stepped away.

“You shouldn’t have been in the woods.” Nancy glared at me.

“Oh, so NOW you’ll answer me,” I scowled. “How about you tell me WHY I shouldn’t have been in the woods? Huh? You got an answer for that? Because GUESS WHAT, I found out EXACTLY why, fucking TWICE.” I was close to losing it at this point. 

“TWICE?” Wheeler squealed. I caught Jonathan looking away guiltily. I pointed at him again.

“You KNEW, you KNEW I’d seen something, and you didn’t say SHIT-” I pointed at my arm, “Even though this was the SECOND attack-”

“-You were attacked TWICE? JONATHAN-”

“-YES, TWICE. But I still don’t even know what the hell attacked me in the FIRST PLACE,” I looked back at Nancy. She was glaring at Jonathan again. 

“He saw something, you KNEW he saw something, and you didn’t think to mention-”

“ALRIGHT, NANCY. I KNEW. YOU HAPPY?” Jonathan lost his cool. I waved my hands to get their attention.

“OKAY, guys, just stop.” I sighed. I just wanted answers. I didn’t really give a damn that Jonathan hadn’t explained things the first time, I just gave a damn if they explained it now. I was cold, standing on ice, neck deep in my windbreaker and just wanted this to be over. 

“We’re going to start from the beginning. Jonathan,” I stuck my hands in my jacket, “You warned be to be careful in the woods. We both know why now,” he nodded, I continued, “and I’m guessing that you told Wheeler here that I was out loitering around.” He nodded again. 

“Yeah.” That was all I got from him.

“Okay. So. Before I saw you, Jonathan, I was looking for a body,” I decided to clear up. Nancy’s jaw dropped.

“WHAT-”

“-Not a human body or anything, Jesus, Wheeler. It was what attacked me the first time. I killed it, and I still don’t know EXACTLY what it was, but you’re going to tell me that in a bit once I finish,” I stopped her. “ANYWAYS, I got attacked by another one, which means there’s several in the woods.” That sobered them up pretty fast. “Jonathan. What were you doing in the woods when I came through?” Jonathan looked down.

“I was trying to find if there were more left over from what happened a few months ago,” he mumbled. Nancy immediately got upset again.

“You can’t just TELL him-” 

“-Then what SHOULD I do? LIE? He’s already seen them. We can’t exactly hide them,’ he grumbled at her. I was intrigued.

“Okay. So you were expecting to find one, or were you just checking to make sure there were none left from whatever the hell happened before?” 

“Uh, yeah, we were hoping there weren’t any left,” Jonathan admitted to me. Nancy covered her small face with her hands and groaned. 

“Found the body of the one you killed, though. Cleaned it up the day after I saw you. I guess now we know what happened to it,” he looked at Nancy, her face still in her hands.

“And what exactly did I kill?”

“We call it a demagog. It’s like a form of an interdimensional being or whatever the kids call it.”

...Kids?

I decided to ignore that.

“Okay. The next one I saw was different, and fighting it off was worse. It was taller and thicker, what was that?” I just kept looking at Jonathan, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“That would be an older form of the demagog, we kind of call it a demogorgon.” 

“Oh, God, you guys are nerds,” I covered my own face. “You named these things yourselves? They’re not even scientifically identified and you’re naming them after Dungeons and Dragons characters?”

“We didn’t name them, the kids did,” Jonathan tried to defend.

“Okay.” I was about done with them. “Those kids being who? Including the one who saw me crawling out of the woods Saturday night, the younger Byers?” I tried connecting the dots.

“Yeah, they have this DnD nerd squad thing. That’s….” he trailed off. “...I mean… this has… have you heard the rumors about my brother, Will?”

“Yeah. Zombie boy?”

“That had to do with this. I can’t really go into detail though, it’s not exactly important,” Jonathan stopped when Nancy elbowed him.

“Alright, I get it, it’s complicated. I walked into something only a few people and a handful of kids know about, right?” I took their silence as affirmation. “Whatever. I don’t care about the details, I care about not getting attacked again at night.” I turned to Jonathan. “God, if it had been anyone else, ANYONE else, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. You’d be explaining a body on your property, understand?” Jonathan and Nancy both looked away.

“Well…” Jonathan looked at Nancy, then kicked at the ice. “We think they can travel through dimensions, so it’d carry the body over and eat it there. That’s what happened before.” Nancy sighed loudly. I could tell something was upsetting her. 

“..... This has happened before.” I stared at them.

“Barb,” Nancy muttered. Everything clicked.

“She didn’t go missing, huh. She got dragged into another dimension.” 

“They’re attracted to blood,” Nancy added, and as she spoke, things just kept falling into place like puzzle pieces. “They drag their prey into the dimension they came from before, and can leave openings to that dimension, but have a hard time getting over into this one unless someone opens up a gate for them to make the initial jump.”

“And what happened a few months ago, someone opened that gate? That’s what this is all about?”

Once again, I was met with silence and silent nods. 

“Oh my fucking God.” I dropped my hands from my face. “This is ridiculous. And you couldn’t have just told me all in one go, no, I had to squeeze it out of you guys.” No response. “AND we’re skipping class for this shit.” Nancy groaned at that, the nerd. 

“Okay. Okay,” I told myself. There wasn’t really any reason NOT to believe them, but I was having a hard time interpreting between the lines as to what was going on, let alone taking it all in. 

“You’re sure about the separate dimension? Kind of sci-fi,” I asked. They both nodded. “Okay,” I repeated, letting out a long breath of air. “I expect you to give me the full, unfiltered story if I get attacked again. If this happens again I’m going to be throwing hands, I’m a third year in high school, okay? I shouldn’t have to be worried about this stuff, hell, I just joined the basketball team and I don’t want to mess that up with injuries, and I have a record. A CLEAN record,” I knew I was ranting a bit, but Nancy interrupted. 

“You can’t tell ANYONE-”

“-Yeah, yeah, I get it. I already told Edward and his crew it was just a wild animal,” I rolled my eyes. I realized that if I had to keep too many secrets from them in the long run, like if this happened again or kept happening, I probably couldn’t hang with them as much. 

Nancy and Jonathan looked much happier and placated after that, their nervousness nearly gone.

“Basketball, yeah?” Jonathan tried to make the conversation lighter. “Steve’s on the team still, right?”

“Yeah. Played with him a few times, he’s pretty cool,” I told him. 

“Wait-” Nancy’s eyes lit up, but not with joy. “What happened to the demogorgon that attacked you last?” 

Oh, shit.

“Well, it wasn’t doing too well when I left it, but I think I killed it,” I was pretty confident, but there was a slimmer of a chance it had survived. Judging by the way it had been crawling it wasn’t a large chance.

“What? There’s no way you killed it, I don’t even know how you got away,” Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed. I shrugged.

“Killed the other one, didn’t I? I had help this time from your dog,” I told Jonathan, and he laughed quietly.

“That explains the blood,” he smiled. I thought for a moment, remembering dripping all over the thing.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The blood must have been a menace to clean from the dog’s white fur.

“Mom was really upset, she thought maybe someone died in the woods, but Will told us you drove away, so she didn’t call the cops,” Jonathan explained. I remembered Will’s face.

“Is Will okay? I was kind of a mess, did I scare him?”

“Yeah, he was pretty scared, but he’s seen some stuff so he’ll survive. I think.” Jonathan looked at Nancy, and Nancy shrugged. 

“He seems to be doing better after- yeah,” she offered. I ignored that they were still hiding stuff.

“Well, we should get back. I think we’ve missed the full period,” I commented. “Can’t miss practice, you know?” That shook them out of their moment, and they broke out of their silent conversation, making a bit of small talk and making their way back to the building. When we got inside, I waved them off, then made for my locker to wrap my arm in gauze. 

I threw off my windbreaker as fast as possible, hoping to avoid as many eyes on my arm as possible. The wrap job I made was tight and fast from practice. I just hoped the coaches wouldn’t say too much when I got to practice. 

They did have a few words, but it was mostly to confirm that I could still throw myself around with the guys even with a messed up arm. I told them it felt better than it looked, and they soon forgot about it, handing me my new team t-shirt and black shorts. The shorts were high, showing off my thick thighs and curved ass. I loved my ass in those shorts. The practice uniform was the last block put in place of feeling like a real member of the team. The change in my performance was noticeable; I started working with more of the guys on the court, and in a scrimmage game, I gave two assists to Hargrove, who slapped my bare back and grinned each time. I gave three other assists that practice, eager to show that I could work with an injury. Steve was on the shirts team opposing us. I had a good time roughing him and Simmons over a few times defending, and they took it in stride, but when I assisted Hargrove and Hargrove buddied up to me, Steve shot me a few confused looks, even trying to start up a conversation during a water break.

“You getting close to Hargrove?” He was breathing hard. I could tell he was trying to be discreet in front of the other team members, which I had to give him credit for. I shrugged.

“Saw him Sunday, he wasn’t too awful. Not that he’s not an asshole,” I added. Steve gulped down some water before answering.

“He’s being nice? Think he’s being friendly?” He sounded genuinely curious. I nodded.

“Yeah. I told him I’m open to being friendly, if that’s alright.”

“That’s fine, I just-” He broke off when another teammate got close enough to hear the conversation, then waited until he moved away to continue. “Listen, I don’t want to sound like a dick, but-” he was broken off by Coach Riley’s whistle, and suddenly we were dropping our water and back on the court. I wondered what he was going to say, but it was left to my imagination, as Steve never got the chance to finish. 

The practice went really well. Riley only yelled at me a few times, opting to pick away at some of the other guy’s problems on the court as we worked. I wondered if that meant he didn’t want to throw too much on me at once, or if he thought I was doing well enough not to critique me. Once practice was over, instead of meeting up with Tommy and the other guys, Billy walked over to me.

“Nice game, James. How’re you liking the team so far?”

I caught Steve watching us from afar as we all made our way back to the locker room.

“Pretty good, don’t have any complaints yet,” I told him. He laughed.

“Just wait, Tommy’s gonna say some dumb shit and someone will square up. Happens every few weeks.” Billy threw some water down his throat. I looked over at Tommy, who was dumping water on one of the guys I didn’t know yet. 

“I don’t doubt it.” I swallowed some of my own water, wiping some of the sweat off my face with my discarded shirt. 

“Catch you later, James,” Billy suddenly waved, then ran off to catch up with the rest of the douchebag group. I watched his shorts as he left. They left very little to the imagination. 

Steve almost immediately sauntered his way over, eyebrows up. I shrugged at his unspoken question. He never got to finish what he was saying later; as soon as he got close, we were too close to the other guys. Once in the shower, Billy was close enough to throw a handful of suds at me. Steve watched silent and wide-eyed as I splashed some water back, laughing (and trying and failing to keep the gauze on my arm from getting wet). I thought the exchange wasn’t going as bad as it could have been. 

Surprisingly, Steve didn’t seem to harbor any bad feelings about Hargrove. It only seemed like he wanted me to be cautious around him for my own sake, not caring that I might be getting closer to him because of whatever feud they’d had before. I remembered that Steve told me he was partially to blame for whatever happened. It made me curious as to what had occurred, but I knew better than to ask for specifics. What struck me as odd was that Steve didn’t seem to have heard about what happened in the woods from Byers or Wheeler. I wondered if he’d known I was in the woods at all. He hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the tooth marks on my arm like Wheeler had, so I guessed that he didn’t know about the attacks either. 

The way home was freezing, my soaked gauze chilling the heat from my arm and my heavier windbreaker lying in shreds in my kitchen trash can.


	9. A Conversation I Didn't Want to Have

I was right about Steve. He found me the next day right after the first class, pulling me aside to some less populated lockers with a much different look on his face than before. He looked like he was having a bad day; his usually fluffy hair was flatter, tucked under a very uncharacteristic ball cap that meant that he probably hadn’t done his hair that morning, face sullen like he hadn’t slept the night before. His appearance briefly reminded me of something Jess or Carol had said about his hair, something like it was his most attractive feature. Judging by how different he looked, they were right. 

“Is that… corduroy?” was the first thing that came out of my mouth, my eyes stuck to his coat. 

“Shut up, man, I was in a rush this morning,” he glared. 

“Alright, no more comments.” I held up my hands in surrender. 

“Nancy told me what happened.” His voice was quieter.

Ah, I had figured as much.

“You got stuff to add? They gave me a hard time already,” I grumbled.

“Naw, well, nothing bad,” he defended. “I just had a few things that they might’ve missed. You’re actually the only one who’s seen any of those demo-things, at least that we know of, but if there were two in the same area there’s probably a lot more around.”

I surveyed his face. He looked really stressed out; I wondered if he had a lot of things on his mind.

“In case you run into another one, which you probably shouldn’t, we’ve figured out a few ways to take it out or whatever,” he continued. I noticed his eyes were red. He definitely hadn’t slept.

“Fire is your best bet. Oh, right,” he glanced around, making sure no one was around. “Nancy told me to tell you that they did find the other body, the one they weren’t sure about? Yeah, anyways, congrats on taking it down. That’s kind of big.”

“I had a dog’s help,” I shrugged. Steve gave me a look that said something in between ‘that’s still a huge deal’ and ‘just take the goddamn compliment, asshole’.

“Whatever, I couldn’t have taken it out and you did. I’m not sure anyone I know could’ve. Maybe Hopper? I don’t really know what he’s actually good at,” he went off. I tried not to laugh at what he said about whoever Hopper was. The name sounded familiar. 

“So, fire, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, back on track. “Fire, or heat or whatever, is the only thing we’ve really found that those things don’t like. I mean, you can beat the shit out of them, too, but that’s a lot harder,” he supplemented. I hoped that Steve wasn’t around fire a lot, his hair seemed like a huge hazard. 

“Sweet, alright. Thanks for filling me in.” 

“Right. No problem. Um, what I was going to say yesterday at practice was about Hargrove,” he switched around, catching me by surprise.

“Uh, okay? Go ahead,” I stuck my hands in my back pockets. Steve double checked that no one was close enough to hear before continuing. 

“I really, really don’t care if you are friends with him. Like, I’m sure he’s fine, but I just wanted to warn you that he’s probably going to be playing for popularity if he thinks you’re worth his time. God, I sound like a dick, I’m sorry,” Steve closed his eyes, head tilting back a bit in self-exasperation. 

“No, it’s okay,” I stopped him. “He doesn’t seem like the type to want to be close friends, and I wouldn’t be surprised.” I stopped myself. “Well, I mean, I also don’t think I’d be the type to fall in with his crowd, so if he was playing that, I would be a little surprised. I’m hoping he’s just trying to keep the team functional,” I fiddled with my feet. 

“I don’t think he’d try to kick the shit out of you, to be honest, but he might be shallower than you’d want in a friend, is what I’m saying,” Steve gestured. I nodded. 

“What happened with him and me was kind of started by me, and I still feel bad about that.”

I honestly couldn’t see Steve starting a fight and I wondered what really happened. 

“I mean, Nancy was breaking up with me, and, well, there were other things going on a few months ago.”

Oh my God, Steve had dated Nancy. That explained a lot. 

“Around the same time the gate opened, then? I wouldn’t hold it against you,” I tried to comfort him because he seemed a little upset. A breakup, a fight on the team, and interdimensional beings attacking all at once? That would suck. 

“Yeah. Uh, well I could have handled it better. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Anyway, he might not be that bad, but he could be. That’s what I’m getting at,” Steve looked at me earnestly.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” I told him, genuinely grateful for Steve’s attention to detail and sweetness about it. Steve nodded and turned to leave, but I stopped him when something else came to mind. “When I talked to Billy on Sunday, he seemed okay with me being around you. Also mentioned that he thought your guys’ ship had passed, whatever that meant, but I don’t think he’s mad at you or anything.” Steve looked surprised. A small “oh,” escaped his mouth, but he shrugged. 

“Interesting. I’ll see you at practice?” he called, and I nodded. That was it. I watched his retreating back, stupid navy corduroy stiffly shifting with his shoulders. Somehow, I got the feeling that something was still bugging him outside of what we’d just talked about, but I knew not to push it. I really thought of him as a good natured guy, and I didn’t want to force a friendship with him too hard, let alone bug him about his personal issues. 

I tried not to think about Steve or Billy for the rest of the day. Practice went as well as it could have, and Billy didn’t approach me, only mildly communicating on the court like he had the day before. Even so, my thoughts were somewhere else as I sat eating the bland chicken my mum had made for dinner, mum trying to egg me into talking about school with her. I was nearly going to tell her to shove off my back about maths when there was a knock at our door. No one had visited since we’d moved, and even more unexpected, out the window lit by our driveway night light was a cop car. Not any cop car, no, it was the Sheriff’s Chevy Blazer. 

My parents stood up like they’d shat themselves, jumping at the knock and staring me down when they saw who’s car was at our door. 

“Why are the cops here, Tangaroa?” dad asked very not calmly. 

“I dunno, dad.” It was true. I had no idea. Mum looked at me when I waited to open the door, so I walked over quietly to answer it, opening it to a large man just under my own height. His hairline was slightly receding, making him look just a tad taller than he was, contrasting with his bushy mustache. He held his ranger’s hat in his hand, the dark shape meshing with his tan uniform. His gold tag read HOPPER.

Uh oh.

“How can I help you, officer?” I asked him politely. He stared me down.

“I’m looking for a James Slade?” He asked, much more calmly than my dad who stepped behind me.

“That would be me, sir,” I held my hand up. I could feel my dad’s fury from behind me, but when he spoke, I could tell it was through a strained smile.

“He in trouble, chief? Anything I should worry about?” It was very quiet.

“No, this is a quick trip about an animal attack? I got a tip about something in the woods I should be concerned about, and I just wanted to check to make sure you all were all right and if you had any more information,” he looked at me pointedly. 

Ah, shit.

“Could I talk to your son privately? I need to get some descriptors about the animal. Don’t want anything like a bear running around down here,” he looked at dad. Dad stood up a bit straighter.

“He killed it, didn’t you, son?” I could feel his eyes in my back. I gulped.

“Uh, yeah. Body’s in the quarry,” I lied easily. I was trying hard not to turn and run.

“Okay, you know what it was?” Hopper was getting impatient.

“No,” I told him confidently, then added quickly “but I could describe it for you, if you like,” when his face changed. 

“Why don’t you come in? I’ll make you some tea,” mum very unhelpfully suggested to Hopper, and Hopper stepped right into the entryway.

“Thanks, miss, but I think I’ll just stick around enough to ask your son some questions.”

Oh, thank God.

“I could talk to you in my room? Don’t want to bother dinner too much,” I offered, trying to get him away from my dad. 

“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting.” I could tell that he didn’t actually care.

“No, no, go ahead,” dad gestured to the stairs. I took the opportunity to go up them as fast as I could without looking too weird. Hooper trooped along more slowly behind me, feet heavy. I knew it was weird to ask him to come into my room, but I much preferred it over possibly being overheard in the family room by my parents. 

When Hopper stepped inside, he took a long look at the decal. He nodded at a Clash poster near my bed.

“Byers likes the Clash too, I’ve heard,” he tried, and I realized that he felt awkward. 

“Uh, cool. I didn’t know.” I kicked at my carpet. “This room, my parents won’t be able to hear from the kitchen, I thought you’d prefer that,” I informed him. 

The inquisition began without warning.

“You George’s boy?”

I’d thought we’d established that already.

“Yes, sir.”

“Big man,” the chief grumbled.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my dad was short for a Maori.

“Yes, sir.”

“You look pretty big too.” He looked into my eyes. I couldn’t tell what he was trying to figure out.

“Yes, sir. Taller than a lot of others at school.”

The chief hummed. 

“ I heard that you were attacked by an animal?” 

Here we go.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Know what it was?”

“No, sir.” I noticed he was repeating the questions before.

“You’re not making this easy, kid,” he muttered. I looked away. 

“No, sir,” I admitted, and he chuckled a bit.

“It wasn’t an animal, right?” he confirmed. I nodded.

“Okaaayyyy…” he drew out, taking in a long breath. “Let’s get somewhere tonight, shall we? How about you just tell me what you saw.”

“Flower-headed slime ball,” I abbreviated. 

“Just one?”

“Two.”

“Killed both?”

“Yes.”

Hopper whistled at that. 

“Joyce told me they found a body a week or so ago, that you?”

“That was me.”

“And the one they found yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Kid Byers told me you looked roughed up. Any serious damage?”

I was confused as to why he’d ask, but I pulled my sleeve back to show him the tooth marks along my arm. He whistled again.

“Damn, kid, you should've gotten stitches.” He stopped. “A bit late for that now,” he admitted. I shrugged as I pulled the sleeve back over it, uncomfortable with how concerned he sounded.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid, I wouldn’t have been able to take out that second one like you did.” So Steve had been wrong.

“Okay,” I said, unsure of how to respond. I decided to ask the next question.

“You find any more, or just the two?” I wanted to confirm what Steve had told me. Not that I didn’t trust Steve; he just seemed a bit out of the loop. 

“Just the two.” I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. I hoped he wasn’t. 

“Okay.”

It was silent for a few moments, the only sound Hopper playing with his hat in his hands. 

“I’d tell you to stay out of the woods for your own safety, but you seem to have it covered more than anyone else wandering around when they shouldn’t be.” I looked away at that, guilty. It was kind of stupid to be walking around at night in the first place and I knew it. 

“Who called in the tip?” I asked, curious.

“Will Byers, the one you scared.”

“Not Jonathan?”

“No,” he looked at me funny. “Jonathan know about this?”

“Uh…” I didn’t want to make things worse for Jonathan, but I think Hopper had already got an idea of what Jonathan knew and didn’t tell him.

“Jeez, you kids, running around and doing dumb shit without telling anyone,” he groused, walking in a circle. “You know I’m responsible for your asses, right?” He sighed. 

“Yessir.”

“Okay. This happens again, and you call me first, you hear? I need to know first. Not Byers, not Wheeler, and especially not Harrington,” he glared at me.

“Okay, I won’t tell them first,” I held up my hands defensively. I wondered why he had singled out Harrington, but I didn’t ask. 

“Alright. Kid, don’t get into any trouble, alright? You seem nice enough, and I don’t want to get a call about drinking or something stupid.” 

I nodded. 

“Yessir.”

“Okay. Well. I’ll be off, then.” 

I followed him out the door and down the stairs. At the bottom, he suddenly stopped, turning to face me.

“I’m serious about calling first, and specifically ask for me,” he raised his eyebrows at me. I fake saluted with a little attitude.

“Yes, sir,” I smiled at him. He looked at the ceiling, turning away, clearly trying not to roll his eyes.

Mum and dad were in the kitchen, eating dinner. They didn’t leave the table when I showed Hopper out, but they were suddenly up again the moment his car pulled out of the driveway and into the darkness.

“What the hell was he here for?” Dad was glaring again.

“The animals. Just the animals,” I pressed when they looked at me accusingly. “He shouldn’t be coming by again on business,” I added to get them off my back. They looked a little more satisfied at that, but still gave me side-eyes as I joined them to finish my chicken. 

“I find out you broke the law, you know what else’ll be breaking,” my dad suddenly told me with his mouth full of chicken.

“Yes sir.”

The rest of the night was silent, save for when I put in a Queen record before I went to bed. Mum and dad hated Queen, so I put it near the lowest volume setting before settling down and listening to Fat Bottomed Girls.

I had the feeling I hadn’t seen the last of Hopper yet.


	10. A New Friend?

I was talking to Jonathan outside of school one afternoon, because I didn’t have practice after class that day. The air was starting to warm up just a little, and once every few days the ice would melt before refreezing overnight. I was starting to warm up to Jonathan too. I’d sought Jonathan out, but it sure sounded like he wanted to talk to me after we ducked out of the high school building.

“So, two in two weeks. That’s not good. That’s really not good,” he was telling me, hands stuck in his dark denim jacket. “They’ve got to be eating something, although Hopper hasn’t said anything about any missing people. But that doesn’t mean they won't attack anyone, I mean, they attacked you.”

“Yeah.”

“There's probably a lot more of them out there than we’d like. Usually we wouldn’t want to get anyone else involved, but we really don’t want to walk around with just one or two people, you know? So Nancy and I were wondering if you’d want to join.”

“You want me to walk around with you guys at night to go looking for what attacked me twice,” I stated, looking down at him. He was shorter than Steve. He nodded/shrugged, still not meeting my eyes. I had noticed that he didn’t meet my eyes often.

“And you aren’t telling Hopper, are you?”

“....no.”

“Why.”

“He wouldn’t let us help if he knew.”

“Okay.” I answered him fast. He looked up, surprised.

“Okay, you’re in, or okay, you understand?”

“I’m in,” I told him. 

“O-oh, okay. Well, well I was thinking-” he kept stammering. “-I’d rather not, not have Nancy in the woods at night, I mean, she’s a good shot, but she wouldn’t stand much, much of a chance-”

“-I get it, It’ll just be us. Does Nancy know, though?”

“Yeah, she knows. I convinced her somehow that she could come some nights, but not all of them. She made me promise to go out with you.”

“How often were you thinking we’d do this? I’ve only been in the woods three times, and two out of the three I got attacked,” I pointed out. “That’s a high probability of attack, and the time I didn’t it wasn’t that dark out.” 

“I was thinking every other night, but double up Friday and Saturday.”

I hummed. That sounded okay.

“Sounds okay. Meet at your house every night, I’m guessing?” Jonathan nodded at my suggestion. It was quiet for a moment after, us both standing there watching other students leave.

“Hey, Hopper visited a bit back about the demogorgon stuff,” I poked at the ice on the cement sidewalk, trying to melt the ice with Jonathan and myself a little bit more.

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t tell him you got attacked,” he hastily put together, and I got the feeling he was being defensive.

“No, it’s fine. He told me your brother told him about me coming out of the woods. But he said you liked The Clash? He pointed out a poster in my room when he came over,” I threw at him.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Jonathans eyes got wider, but he still didn’t look me in the eyes.

“Kind of punk, aren’t they? Are you into that stuff?” 

“I guess.” I could tell Jonathan was on the defensive again, looking at me warily.

“I had a ripped denim jacket, a battle vest, in New Zealand. Threw a fit when mum made me throw it out when we moved,” I laughed, and Jonathan gaped.

“You had one and she made you throw it out? I would kill for one of those, if people didn’t think I was weird enough,” he admitted. I nodded.

“I know what you mean. The groups here that wear them are not the same crowd I rolled with in New Zealand,” I added, glad that we’d finally broken the ice.

“Yeah, it’s not a popular small town thing. That shit’s expensive, too.”

“Yes! My leather jacket cost several hundred, and who pays that much for something they can’t wear without getting shit, you know? Might as well have bought a real down parka. Would've, if I’d known I’d be moving here. Would look less ridiculous next to the preps,” I rolled my eyes and Jonathan laughed.

“Man, you’ve got a leather jacket? You should definitely wear it. I think Hargrove wears one sometimes, and I hear girls saying they think he’s hotter when he does. He’s got the whole Cali thing going though.” 

“Maybe I will. Don’t want a whole two summers of work to go to waste.”

“Did tours ever come down to New Zealand? I know it’s pretty far.” 

“The Clash came down in ‘82. I wasn’t allowed to go, but there’ve been a few local punk bands I’ve gone to. Most of what I’ve got, records and stuff, is from overseas,” I admitted. 

“You’re still using records? I mostly use tapes now.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some tapes too, but I just have a lot of stuff my parents like from decades ago as well, so it’s more convenient for me. I mostly just use tapes in my car,” I gestured over into the parking lot. “But hey, maybe we could exchange tapes some time? As long as you don’t have too much Bowie,” I joked. Jonathan faked indignation.

“You don’t like Bowie? How could you,” he accused, and I laughed.

“A few Bowie songs are okay, but most of them make me want to lay around and get nothing done. I like-” I was cut short when something small came running and jumped in between Jonathan and I. 

“Hey, Will,” Jonathan patted the smaller form, and the form turned to me. I immediately recognized him.

“Will, right? I’m James,” I told him. Will just stared up at me with big eyes. 

“I’m sorry about last time, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I told him, bending down just a bit to look at him better. He didn’t seem too scared.

“It’s fine,” the smaller Byers let out after a moment. 

Suddenly, we were surrounded by middle schoolers.

“Hi, Jonathan, where’s Steve?” asked one kid with bushy hair. I looked at Jonathan, mouthing ‘Steve?’ and he looked down at the kid.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Well, he was supposed to pick us up to go to the arcade eight minutes ago, and he’s never this late-”

“-He’s probably fine, if you guys hadn’t come over here you’d probably have seen him looking for you,” Jonathan told the fast-paced boy. 

“Oh, hey, you must have been the guy that came out of the woods all bloody,” the kids suddenly turned on me. I must have looked funny because the bushy kid quickly added “Will told us. Hi, I’m Dustin.”

“Oh? Yeah, that was me. I’m James.”

“You have an accent? That’s cool, man, where are you from?” This kid just wouldn’t shut up.

“New Zealand.”

“Oh sweet! That’s, like, really far away.” The more Dustin talked the more I saw Edward in him. One of the kids was glaring at me heavily; he had black hair that slightly curled and a pinched nose that looked like he was trying hard to stick it as far in the air as it would go.

“I heard you took out a demogorgon, that’s really cool, dude-”

“-Shut up, Dustin! Someone could hear you!” the frowning kid cut him off.

“Mike, there is no one around,” Dustin continued, unfaltering. “But a demogorgon is really hard to take out, how did you-”

“-Why are you talking to him? We don’t even know him,” Mike interrupted again. 

“Man, just shut up,” another kid spoke up. This one stood out; he was the third black person I’d seen in town. 

“Then we’ll get to know him. Maybe he’s like Steve?” Dustin turned on Mike, but not harshly. “Anyways, how did you-”

“-It’s anyway, dipshit.” Suddenly, Steve was there. “Didn’t I tell you assholes to meet over by your school? Not mine?” Steve had his hands on his hips, looking down over the middle schoolers like a parent. He looked over at Jonathan and me. “Hey, man,” he told Jonathan. Then “sorry about the kids,” to me.

“No problem. Just getting to know them,” I smiled at Dustin. Dustin smiled wide back, teeth missing. He turned back to Steve.

“Hey, we need to be on time to meet Max at the arcade,” he told Steve, and Steve nodded.

“Alright. My car’s where it usually is, all of you can find it on your own. I’ll follow you in a second, okay?” Steve nodded his head in the direction of his car. “It’s unlocked.” The four kids I only knew three names of immediately ran for it talking amongst themselves about something I couldn’t catch. Once they were gone, Steve dropped his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Dumb kids,” he sighed, exasperated. I could tell he didn’t hate them as much as he let on. He stood there for a few seconds, and I wondered if he meant to say something else.

“Well, I’m off. If the kids bother you-” he looked at me, “let me know, and I’ll take care of them,” he offered. 

“Sounds good,” I gave him a thumbs up. Steve waited a bit, expectantly, before nodding and walking off to his car where the kids had started yelling again. As he pulled out of the lot, I turned back to Jonathan.

“Steve doesn’t know, does he.”

“No. There’s reasons for that, but they’re between Nancy, Hopper and I,” Jonathan glared at me. I nodded.

“Was telling him about the stuff in the woods a mistake? He’s going to know something is up if we keep talking like this in front of him. I got the feeling he already thought that when he stopped by,” I pointed out, and Jonathan groaned, nodding.

“Yeah we’re going to have to be more discreet. Steve isn’t the brightest, but he’s not stupid. If we are going to keep talking about this we should keep it outside of school.”

“Was it yours or Wheeler’s idea to hide this from Steve?”

“Nancy brought it up, but I agree with her.”

“Sounds good.” I felt bad about keeping stuff from Steve, since I liked him so much, but I trusted Jonathan’s judgement. 

“I should probably head out, I’ve got to make dinner tonight,” I told him awkwardly. Jonathan nodded.

“See you tonight? Eight?”

Right, it was Wednesday. Time to get on the monster hunting schedule.

“Sure. Eight, I’ll see you then.” And with that, we both went our separate ways. Once I got to my car, I looked back. Nancy was standing by Jonathan’s car, staring me down. I waved and she begrudgingly waved back, ducking into Jonathan’s car once Jonathan approached. 

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Nancy yet. Part of that feeling was because I knew that Nancy felt the same about me. I didn’t blame her, of course, I probably looked and acted sketchy as hell. I wondered if I should try to get on her good side as I keyed my ignition.

Naw, I didn’t really care that much. 

Dinner was nice and short. I made something small, like premade pasta and homemade sauce, and my parents ate that shit up like I’d put in the hours of effort to make the pasta myself. Fooled them. Once seven thirty rolled around, I was already out in my driveway in my black leather jacket and a green turtleneck, ready to meet with Byers. Regardless of how early I knew I’d be, I always left for something half an hour before, worried that something would come up and I’d be late. I hated being late. 

Sure enough, I rolled into the Byers driveway at 7:41 pm. I stayed in my car, pulling out my Pall Malls and lighting up inside once I’d turned my headlights off. Closer to 7:45 there was a knock at my window. Blurred by the smoke, I rolled it down, and was surprised to see a woman bending over at my door. She waved at me, smiling.

“Hello, you must be James? I’m Joyce Byers. Jonathan said he’d be meeting you. He just called to say he’s staying late another half hour at work.” Her voice was high, but was somehow more appealing than my mum’s. She stood up straighter. “Feel free to come inside, I’ve got coffee on,” she offered.

“Past seven-thirty?” I couldn’t help myself but ask around my fag, eyes wide. She laughed and motioned for me to follow her. I wasn’t going to say no to coffee, so I got off my arse and followed her in, briefly eyeing her light her own cigarette in the doorway before taking mine in with me. She led me into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was a kettle on the stove. I tried to ignore how messy the place was, but I had a very good feeling about it, like it was lived in and homely. I found myself preferring it to my own farmhouse out in the fields. In the warmth of the room I took my leather jacket off almost immediately, still wearing the forest green turtleneck but rolling the sleeves up past my elbows.

“Come, sit,” Mrs. Byers motioned, sitting herself at a dark, thin circular table with a few flower patterned, stick-like chairs. I sat in the one across from her, scooting myself in. There was a large glass light above us that almost looked art-deco, standing out from the flowery walls and emitting a soft, orange light. I liked it a lot.

“I love the lighting,” I pointed at the glass, “It’s very warm. I wish we had more stuff like this at my house,” I admitted, getting a little too comfortable. Mrs. Byers looked at me like I was crazy from under her bangs with her dark eyes, but smiled anyways. Apprehensively fingering the nicks in the side of the table, I looked around, observing the kitchen. The wallpaper was peeling in a few corners, oak wood lining the edges of the house, the central light in the kitchen one of the few sources of illumination. I noticed some christmas lights still up past the hallway, but I didn’t comment on it. There were a lot of dishes in the sink.

“Shit, that’s the kettle,” Mrs. Byers muttered, standing up fast to address the now whistling pot on the stove. I stood up too, feeling too awkward to remain sitting while she was making coffee. “These damn things,” she laughed. “We got a filter coffee maker a few years ago, but it broke last year. I’m still not used to hopping up and making it myself.” She grabbed at the cupboards below the sink, pulling out some of the freeze-dried coffee I’d seen so much around America. I knew immediately it was probably robusta instead of my usual arabica. 

Mrs. Byers fumbled with the coffee for a bit, offering me sugar and milk. I took both. When we were finally situated back at the table, large mugs in hand, I’d finished my cigarette. Mrs. Byers was still going between her cigarette and the coffee. I chose to snuff mine out on my arm and stuff the butt in my pants, not wanting to bother Mrs. Byers with where to put it. She noticed immediately.

“Oh, give me that,” she nagged, grabbing an ashtray I hadn’t seen before and pushing it my way. I reluctantly pulled the end of my fag out and placed it onto the tray sheepishly.

“Don’t let me catch you doing that again. Did you burn yourself?” she was staring me down. I shrugged.

“I’m fine,” I told her, uncomfortable with the attention she was giving me. She kept staring, so I opted to distract myself by taking my sweater off, setting it onto my lap with my leather jacket and picking up my coffee again. Luckily, Mrs. Byers didn’t press.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I told her, and she shook her head.

“No problem.” 

I took the silence as an opportunity to take a large gulp from my yellow mug. It wasn’t bad, but I definitely wasn’t used to it.

“So, what’re you and Jonathan up to tonight?”

I tried very hard not to spit-take into my mug.

“Uh,” I tried filling for time, scrambling to think of something. “We’re going on walks through the woods,” I settled on a half-truth.

“If you’re going out there to smoke grass, I don’t care. You can just tell me. God knows how much I smoked when I was your age,” she suddenly admitted. I stared at her, shocked. She laughed at my face. “Okay, you don’t have to admit it. Just don’t let Hopper catch you boys out there, alright? He only lets us get away with so much.” I wondered what the hell she meant by that. I didn’t refute what she said, choosing only to drink more of the coffee, not meeting her eyes. I probably looked really guilty, but I really just didn’t want her to know about what we were really doing if she caught me lying. I tapped my free fingers nervously on the table, feeling the dents in the wood some more. 

“I’m glad Jonathan is making more friends,” she broke the silence. 

Oh, God. No. Please no. It was awkward enough.

“He’s not very social, I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she added, and I wanted to die right there on the spot. “He really only ever goes out with Nancy now, which is fine, but I really wished he talked to more boys his age, like you and Steve.”

She just wouldn’t stop. I just kept drinking the coffee, hoping it would never run out.

“You were the one that got attacked in the woods, right? Will told me,” she changed the subject. I nodded into my mug, not meeting her eyes. 

“That happens again and you come straight inside, you hear? I don’t want any of you to be out there at night in the first place, but teenagers have to be teenagers,” she smiled at me. I tried very hard not to look back. “I might just die of worry if that happens again and you don’t come inside. Don’t think you’ll scare us, Will told me you might say that,” she stopped me when I finally made a move to speak. I shrank further into my chair in response when she stopped me, even more guilty than before. 

“Will around?” I asked, trying to change the subject again. I couldn’t wait for Jonathan to get back. Mrs. Byers shook her head.

“He’s at the Wheeler’s tonight, doing their little campaign again,” she confirmed my worry. There was no one to save me from my fate. 

Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait much longer, as I heard the rumble of Jonathan’s 70’s Ford LTD. I slammed the rest of the coffee down my throat, jumping up (but trying not to get up too fast so that Mrs. Byers didn’t think I was an asshole). Throwing my turtleneck back on, I walked as quickly as possible to the door to meet Jonathan without being rude. Before Jonathan made the trip to the door, I opened it, calling out a brief “Hey, Jonathan!” before rushing out and meeting him at his car. Mrs. Byers followed me out. 

“You boys try not to have too much fun,” she winked at me. 

“MOM,” Jonathan exclaimed, embarrassed. 

“Thanks again for the coffee, Mrs. Byers,” I told her, and she waved her hands.

“No, no. Call me Joyce,” and with that, she was backing back through the doorway, obviously chilled and underdressed for the cold outside. 

“Don’t stay out too long! If you get even a little cold, come back inside!” she said, waving at us once more before closing the door. Jonathan turned to me.

“What did you tell her we were doing?”

“I didn’t say anything. Just said we were going for a walk in the woods,” I defended, and Jonathan sighed, covering his face.

“I should probably mention that she thinks we’re out here to smoke weed,” I added as an afterthought. “I didn’t really dissuade her, because I wasn’t sure what you wanted her to think.” Jonathan sighed at that. 

“Shit,” he groaned.

“Hey, man, she sounded okay with it. She said she used to, and I quote, ‘smoke grass’”, I put up my hands in the air quotes sign. 

“Oh my God, she didn’t,” Jonathan was obviously extremely embarrassed, so I dropped my hands. 

The chill was starting to get to me when I noticed I’d forgotten my jacket inside.

“Oh shit, I forgot my jacket inside. One second,” I told Jonathan, before bolting to the door. I wavered for a second in front of it, wondering if I should knock, before deciding it was stupid and just sneaking the door open a crack and walking back inside. Mrs. Byers spotted me immediately. 

“Forgot your jacket?” she called, amused.

“Yeah, sorry.” I hoped my face wasn’t too red. She carried it from the hallway to me, handing it over with a grin.

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers.”

“It’s Joyce, hun.”

I smiled at her and nodded, before turning back out the door. Once out, I stopped, turning again.

“Thanks, Joyce,” I told her, and she smiled wider.

“No problem. Have fun!” She closed the door after waving for the last time at Jonathan and I. Standing in front of the door, I let the night wind caress my face for a little bit, closing my eyes at the light touch before throwing the jacket on.

“You wore the leather jacket,” Jonathan smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” I smiled back. 

“You got a lighter?”

“Yeah,” I answered, more confused. 

“Perfect.”

Then, we walked into the woods.


	11. Why Can't You Get Along?

Grabbing a Gatorade out of my car after school in preparation for basketball practice, I was accosted by five children. 

“Hi, James!” 

Oh fuck. Dustin.

“Hey, kid,” I turned around from my open car door, facing my doom. Five pairs of eyes looked up at me expectantly. “Looking for Steve?” I asked, assuming he might be driving them again. They looked between themselves, and I noticed that four of them had bikes, the new redhead girl with a skateboard.

“No, we’re biking to the arcade today,” Dustin helpfully lisped, a stupid looking trucker hat perched on his curls. “We wanted to talk to you. It’s in the company’s best interest to interrogate you as to your intentions with Steve.”

What the fuck.

Dustin saw my face, and quickly backtracked.

“Not like that,” he quickly defended. 

“Pray tell how,” I tried to be nice, but the sarcasm was dripping out. 

“The last new guy in town kicked his ass, and we don’t want that happening again.”

Oh, boy.

“I can promise you that as long as he doesn’t give me a reason to kick his ass, the only time I’ll be kicking his ass is in basketball,” I joked. It definitely wasn’t the right time to joke, because these kids were serious.

“Well, Billy had a reaso-” The redhead smacker her hand over Mike’s mouth before he could finish. I glared at the little fucker.

“Alright, listen up.” all the kids' heads shot up. “I don’t know exactly what happened with Billy and Steve, but I know Steve well enough now to know he wasn’t at fault for what happened. For my part, I don’t think Billy had a good enough reason to put Steve in the hospital, regardless of what was going on.” I stopped to read their faces. Dustin managed a pretty straight face, while the rest of them looked scared out of their minds. Whoops. 

“I would never, NEVER hurt Steve unless he did something really, really bad. Bad like calling me a faggot, hitting me first, or something worse,” I shot out.

“Are you a fag?” Mike glared at me. I saw Will take a faltering step back, looking at Mike with something unreadable in his face.

I was one step from killing Mike, but the black kid got there before I could do anything.

“Mike, if you don’t shut the hell up I will make you,” he growled at him. Dustin intervened then.

“Alright, Lucas and Mike, calm down. Mike, apologize,” he lisped, turning from me and glaring at them.

Mike crossed his arms, pouted, and looked away. I waited for a moment, giving him a chance to apologize, and when he didn’t, I just continued.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a fag or not. It’s a rude word and shouldn’t be used to describe anyone,” I tried to calm myself down. “Do you even know what it means, dipshit?” I asked Mike, who looked my way, before embarrassingly shaking his head just a little. I nodded, knowing I’d won.

“Yeah, I thought as much. It can mean a cigarette-” I pulled out my Pall Malls from my car door for emphasis, shoving it in the little shit’s faces, “-or it can mean something else. Any guesses?” I turned around the group, looking for someone to answer. No one would look at me. “Fine. It means something like kindling for a fire. Can you guess what that implies?” Dustin looked up at that.

“That they’re worthless?” I tried hard not to roll my eyes at the kid’s answer, but sighed instead and nodded slightly.

“Getting warm, Dustin. Anyone else?”

Surprisingly, the redhead girl looked up to meet my eyes.

“Back a few hundred years ago, it referenced how useless old women or spinsters were, for the lowest of low occupations,” she started, and I stared at her, surprised. 

“Okay, and?” I egged her on a bit. She complied.

“They started using it for...” she stopped, uncertain. “Homosexual people. Because of what they’d do to them.”

“How did you know that?” I was impressed. She just shrugged, mumbling “someone told me”. I dropped it.

“You know what they’d do to them? To call them fire starters?” I asked the group, turning away from the redhead.

“Holy shit,” Dustin said, eyes wide.

“Yep,” I supplemented. “I’m not going to spell it out for you. It’s pretty easy.” I turned back to Mike. “Do you understand why you should never call someone that again?” I grilled him. 

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, chastised. I leaned against my car, satisfied.

“Okay. Good. I’d like to make something very clear.” I stopped, making sure I had their full attention. “I don’t care what your opinion is of gay people, but no one, ever, regardless of their circumstances, deserves to be called that. Do you understand?”

I heard a spattering of mumbled yes’ and nods in response. 

“Sweet. Okay. Back to Steve?” I asked Dustin, realizing that I’d probably intimidated the hell out of all of them. Dustin nodded aggressively, and turned the attention back to himself.

“Right. Okay, so I think we’re pretty convinced you won’t beat up Steve,” he told me, looking around the group. Everyone nodded a bit. “We want to hear about you and the demogorgons, though,” he added, and everyone’s eyes lit up.

Oh, shit.

“Okay. Um. What do you want to hear?”

“Can you tell us how you took out the first one?” Dustin excitedly asked, and the other kids added their agreeing remarks.

“The first one was actually a demogog, I’m told,” I entertained Dustin. He grinned wide. I checked my watch; I had about seven minutes till I had to hit the locker rooms. Plenty of time to tell them about the first attack, right?

“I was hiking through the woods,” I told them. “It was my first weekend in town, right after I’d moved. I wanted to explore a little bit, and some of my new friends told me that the woods by the Byers were dangerous, like, in a fun way.”

“The night was really cold. I was smoking almost a whole pack of cigarettes to get warm,” I reminisced, looking at the grey sky. “I parked my car on the side of that unnamed road-”

“-Mirkwood,” Mike interrupted. I nodded.

“Okay, Mirkwood. I was parked off of Mirkwood near the three mile marker. There was no one else outside, no cars, no other signs of life. Not even birds, as far as I could see or hear. When I first got out of my car, there was still light coming through the trees from the lowering sun,” I elaborated, “but as I started making my way through the brush, the sun lowered further and further as I approached Castle Byers.”

“Hey! That’s-” the redhead slapped a hand over Mike’s mouth again. I tried not to laugh at his face as I continued.

“The fort looked pretty creepy in the dimming light, and I had to turn on my flashlight. It was almost like I knew I shouldn’t be there. I had a really bad feeling about the fort as I passed it, and I thought I could feel it creeping up my back as I walked away from it. I kept turning around to check on it until it was out of sight,” I admitted. “Once it was out of sight, it was completely dark. I had to rely on the flashlight completely. It was just us out there. Or so I thought.” I paused for dramatic effect. Even if my words had little meaning, the way I performed them meant everything. I could even tell that Mike was getting a little creeped out, as I stared at them all individually during different moments in the story.

“I was walking along when I felt something strange. Almost like I should be looking where I wasn’t, and that something was hiding from me. But not in a way like I was the hunter. No, I knew I was the prey.” Dustin visibly shivered. “I shook it off, initially. Made my way out further for another half hour. That was when I tripped on something. I dropped my flashlight, sprawling,” I gave them an example of my form, moving my arms about for a bit. “I grabbed my flashlight back immediately, of course, because in the moment that I fell, I knew something about the situation had changed. I was now easy prey. Before, I’d been alert, but with the fall, I was shining my flashlight around widely, getting increasingly nervous about supposedly nothing. That’s when I knew.” I paused again.

“Knew what?” That was the black kid.

“I knew that it was right there, in front of me. And I could hear it growl. The worst part about it was that it could see me, the whole time, but even though I knew it was right there, I still couldn’t see it. Not until it let me see it. I was lucky; it attacked me head on. If it hadn’t, I wouldn't have been ready.” 

“I remember seeing it’s figure first. I hoped that it was a crouching, tall human with a large head. I shined my flashlight on it, hoping I was seeing things. I wasn’t. The thing-”

“-What the FUCK did I tell you kids not to do?” Suddenly, Steve was there, was telling the kids to fuck off. The kids immediately started whining.

“Steve, James was JUST telling us-”

“-I don’t CARE, Dustin-”

“-He was telling us a story! You ruined it!” Mike defended. Steve’s eyes widened a bit.

“Let him finish, please?” Will asked, eyes large and adorably demanding.

“Alright, shitheads.” Steve turned to me, unable to deny Will’s charm. “You want to finish or head to practice?” he generously asked.

“It’s fine, I can finish,” I quickly told him, shutting my car door behind me and leaning over it.

“But it’s ruined now,” Mike mumbled. I rolled my eyes at him and just kept going.

“So, I was alone in the woods, tripped up and trying to walk straight, shining my flashlight around everywhere like a madman, knowing that something was watching me, when I knew. I just knew that it was right there, and then it showed itself to me.” I started staring at the kids again to emphasize the story. “It was bent over, and I shined my flashlight at it. It glistened under the small light the flashlight emitted, dark and disgusting and slender.” I crouched for effect. “As I stared at it, I realized I had two options. I could run, and it could attack me from behind-” I gestured with one hand, “or I could stand my ground and face it. I made the quick decision to face it, readying myself and getting into a more solid position,” I stepped into a fighting position, “and then it lurched forward, it’s fucked up toothy face coming straight for me.” I stepped back as though it had attacked me in the parking lot, backing up against my car. “I didn’t let it grab me. I sidestepped it, grabbing it’s arms from behind and kicking it’s legs out from underneath it in one go. That’s when I realized I’d underestimated it. See, when I’d kicked at it, I’d sent us both to the ground, but it ripped out its arms from mine and turned on me. It grabbed me,” I showed them by tucking my arms tight to my sides and gesturing to my injured arm with the other. “I was stuck. It’s teeth were in my arm.” I rolled up my sleeve to show them the marks. Dustin gaped at them. “ It had me in it’s grip, and it’s head was getting closer, so I did the only thing I could. I slammed into it, ripped my arms away from it and grabbed its head,” I exclaimed. I caught one of the kids taking a short breath. “I just started hitting it. Over and over again. I don’t know how long I was hitting and kicking it for. I just kept hitting it until I’d heard something snapping, and then until it stopped defending itself, then stopped moving at all. I dropped the body right there once I knew it’s chances of survival were gone.” The kids let out a long breath. “I shined my flashlight on it once I got it again. It was oozing slime everywhere, and once I dropped it, it started struggling to move again. It didn’t take long for it to die after that. Once I knew it was dead, I ran back to my car, and left the body right there.” 

Dustin raised his hand.

“What happened to the body?”

“I came back to find it, to see if I could get rid of it somehow, and it was a mess of rotting flesh. I left it again,” I told him, “and then one, or a few of the Byers took care of it,” I nodded at Will. 

“Jonathan and mom did,” he offered. I smiled at him. 

“That sounds so cool, I wish I could've seen the body rot,” Dustin sighed sadly. Steve rolled his eyes at him.

“You’d probably wish to get attacked by it, idiot.” He smiled at Dustin.

“Alright.” I clapped my hands together. “I’ve got to get to practice, but I don’t know all of your names,” I admitted. The kids went in a circle.

“Dustin Henderson.”

“Mike Wheeler.”

“Will Byers.”

“Lucas Sinclair.”

“Max Mayfield.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll see you kids another time, but we’ve got to go,” I nudged Steve. He kicked into gear.

“Alright, kids, off you go,” he told them, hands on his hips again. The kids all gathered their bikes (or skateboard), said their goodbyes, and shoved off after waving at us both. Once they were out of earshot, I turned to Steve.

“They’re kind of endearing, huh?” Steve shrugged a bit at that.

“Sure, if by endearing you mean annoying as hell. They’re crazy nerds,” he smiled, not meeting my eyes. I knew immediately that he was putting up a front, but for who’s sake, I had no idea.

“I dunno, I think they’re kind of cool.”

“Oh no, are you going to nerd out on me too?” Steve looked exasperated. I laughed at him.

“Alright, let's get to it, yeah?” And with that, we were off to practice. 

With every basketball practice, I was getting more and more comfortable with the other guys. I could even put up with Tommy giving me slack for five minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore and told him to shut up. I couldn’t dislike Tommy too much; I could tell he was being a dick in what he thought was a friendly manner, even if he was being an asshole. 

Today, Carol was at practice, and I found out fast that the Tommy she was dating was the dickwad that was Tommy Hagan. I could kind of see it, I mean, Carol could be an asshole too, but she was a nicer asshole than Tommy most of the time. I got along with Carol. She giggled with her trio on the bleachers when Billy and the other guys on his team took their shirts off. That was when Coach Riley yelled at me to take mine off, too, because he was putting me on the same team with Steve and Billy. 

Uh oh.

I disliked taking off my shirt in front of the girls, but I did it anyway, moving over to throw my shirt next to my water bottle. One of them, maybe Tina, whistled low when she saw. I hate to admit it but I was okay with Tina looking at my body. Coach Riley must have had a bone to pick with me today, because he put me as center (a position I hadn’t played yet, as I was usually put on shooting guard so that I’d get more shooting practice. It didn’t always work out that way) and Billy as small forward, opting to put Steve as point guard. I had no idea what he was planning, because Steve and Billy were both the best players and he usually purposefully put them on separate teams. I could see that immediately Billy was visibly upset at Steve getting point guard.

Here’s the thing; was Billy a better player than Steve? Yes. Was Steve the better leader and team-oriented player? Also yes. 

I cringed inwardly when I heard the call, knowing exactly what was going to happen. I still didn’t know Billy or Steve’s weird relationship very well, but I knew both their court attitudes well enough to know that it wasn’t going to end well. I looked at the other team briefly; Simmons was there, as well as Tommy Hagan, who looked very upset that he didn’t get to take his shirt off in front of his girlfriend today. I couldn't wait to shit talk him about it later. 

Well, that was one thing to look forward to.

The game started off okay initially, but awkwardly, as I tried to get comfortable with the new position. I was just happy that the other team started. The problems began when we got the ball, which was about a minute and a half in. So, not an impressive start.

Our shooting guard named Lawrence had the ball, passed to him by Steve who had won it on our side of the court. It didn’t take long for him to get attacked, so he smoothly passed it to Billy, who started taking it up the court. All of us rushed to meet him at the other end. Simmons was swiftly on Billy, defending their court, when the rest of us arrived at the scene. Tommy was up against Steve, both clearly throwing insults left and right, while I had Howardson on my ass struggling to keep up with my longer legs. I was relatively available even with him on me, and so was Lawrence again, who’d lost his defender. Everything fell to shit in about five seconds.

“Hargrove!” Steve called, gesturing over to Lawrence and I. Billy ignored him, still trying to get around Simmons and the dumbass who was supposed to be defending against Lawrence. 

“Hargrove,” Steve tried again, gesturing wildly in our direction, and Billy looked over briefly before choosing to ignore Steve once again. 

“Open!” Lawrence called at Billy, hair flopping around as he stayed in motion, trying to get his attention. He went ignored. In the time that Billy hesitated, Simmons started pushing harder for the ball, the other defender moving in between him and Lawrence to better block the possible pass. I scowled at the situation. I was technically still free, so I called for it.

“Billy,” I called out, moving away from my defender. He didn’t even look at me, opting instead to try to evade Simmons and make a shot from barely past the midline. He missed. Coach Riley blew his whistle fast, unimpressed.

“What the hell, Hargrove?” Steve yelled at Billy. Both of them looked pissed out of their minds, but still Billy ignored him, body checking him on his way to the ball once the other team started down the court again. I tried to ignore them, but as the game went on, the situation got worse and worse. Of course, everyone but the two of them were doing well, Lawrence, myself and the center forward on our side following Steve’s calls to the best of our abilities and knowing that he knew what he was doing, but Billy just wouldn’t listen. Steve wasn’t helping too much after he got frustrated; his calls were getting harder and harder to follow, his visibility of the game impaired by being upset at Billy. The last straw was when Billy pulled the exact same stunt again. Lawrence and I had both been open, both of us had called for the ball, Billy had two people blocking him, and Steve had called for him to pass. When Billy made the shot this time, Simmons just quickly took it out of the air and dribbled it past Billy. It was clear that whatever was going on was affecting Billy’s work just as much as it was Steve’s, because he would usually never let that happen. Instead, he just stood there, watching as Simmons took his ball up the court. Steve was yelling at him, and before Simmons could try shooting, Coach Riley blew his whistle. It took two blows for Steve to stop yelling. 

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you today, but that’s it. Practice is over. I sure as hell hope you all get in gear by tomorrow, because tomorrow I won’t be as lenient on your asses. Am I clear?” He yelled at the silent gym. Everyone nodded. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve approaching Billy. I hoped to God that he wasn’t going to do what I thought he was going to do. My worst fears were confirmed as while everyone started grabbing their things and making their way off the court, Steve started going off on Billy, who was grabbing his shirt and water bottle from the floor.

“What the HELL was that, Hargrove?” He started, face red. I immediately started walking over, ready to stop a fight. 

“I made thirteen calls. THIRTEEN calls. ALL ignored, by YOU.” 

Uh oh.

“Piss off,” a very angry Billy spat. Literally spat. I saw some of it hit Steve’s face.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Steve was near screaming. 

“STEVE-” I ran over, unable to stop what was about to happen. Steve grabbed Billy’s shirt from his hands, wiping his face with it, and throwing it on the ground. Billy’s fists got tighter. I saw Coach Riley start walking over. Billy turned, walked over to where Steve had dropped his shirt, and slowly, painfully, unscrewed the cap off his water before dumping it on the ground, soaking the shirt. Steve ran after him and moved to grab his hair when I got in between them, facing Steve.

“This ends. Now.” Steve’s outstretched hand stopped in front of my face. He was breathing hard, infuriated.

“Let me at him,” he growled. “It’s been a long time coming, asshole,” he glared over my shoulder at Billy. I heard Billy laugh at him from behind me, so I spun on him. 

“Don’t you fucking egg him on, dumbass,” I pointed at Billy. Billy glared at me, the smirk dropping off his face.

“Or what? You going to stop me? I’d like to see you fucking try.” He was spitting again. Steve shoved past me before I could hold him back.

“I’ll stop you,” he muttered, and then swung. Billy caught Steve’s fist in the jaw, rolling back just a bit to lessen the blow. Suddenly, Coach Riley was in between them, throwing them apart. 

“Both of you off my court and in my office.” His voice was stern and controlled. When they didn’t move, he shoved them both again. “NOW.” They scampered off, collecting their things before elbowing each other as they made their way through the door. Before he followed him, the coach looked at me before shaking his head, moving stiffly away. 

They were gone for ten, very long minutes. When they came out of the office and into the locker room, I jumped up from where I was sitting to meet them.

“How fucking old are you two. I’m serious. How fucking old?” I hissed at them. Neither of them looked at me. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

“Eighteen,” Steve mumbled, and Billy muttered a soft “seventeen”. 

“And what situation would permit two near-adults to fight on a basketball court during practice?” I towered over them.

“None,” Steve told me solemnly. I nodded. 

“Exactly. None. Now, I don’t care what issues you’ve had before or off the court, but this doesn’t come onto the court. Billy,” I turned to him, “you know FULL WELL you started it. Steve-” I turned again, “you know FULL WELL you threw that first punch.” I stopped. “I know that Coach Riley probably gave you enough shit, but I’m going to give you some too. Either of you pull shit like that in front of me on the court and I’ll hand up both your asses. Understand?” Steve nodded, and Billy nodded too, but he was glaring at me. I calmed down a bit. “Alright,” I said, softer. “Let’s shower, yeah?” With that, they were heading their separate ways. I showered with Steve again.

“Listen, I know that Billy’s an immature asshole,” I whispered, and Steve groaned at me. “But you’ve got to keep it down on court. I’ll try talking to him tomorrow, okay? But if it happens again, you need to be the bigger person,” I continued, ignoring Steve’s look of betrayal. “You really should know better, man.”

“He just- he just makes it so hard,” Steve admitted, and I smiled, looking away from him and into the water.

“I know. He’s probably just having a bad day. You’ll get over him being an asshole eventually, okay?” I grabbed at the soap. Steve hummed, taking the soap when I offered it after using it.

“Okay,” he mumbled eventually. I slapped his back.

“There you go,” I grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes.

Outside of the locker room, Carol and her friends were waiting. I’d forgotten they were there in the first place. When I walked by, gathering my stuff in my hands, Carol waved me down, stopping me.

“Hey, Carol. How’s it going?” I asked, and she smiled.

“Fantastic, thanks. I was wondering if you’d want to come to a party this weekend? It’s at Tina’s at ten,” she said, gesturing to the other girl. I politely smiled at Tina.

“I’d love to.” Tina grinned back at me once I answered. She was really pretty and I admitted that to myself, but I wasn’t sure if she was my type. Considering my track record, she definitely wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to base my future off of my record.

“Sorry, got to go, but I’ll see you all later this week?” I said, and they all giggled and waved at me as I left out the doors of the school. My thoughts were anywhere but the party, Steve or Billy. Talking to Steve had reminded me of what Jonathan and I were keeping from him.

I was stuck in my thoughts getting out of practice, dressed slightly cooler than usual in just a long sleeved shirt after the heat of practice. The night with Byers had gone well. Nothing had shown up. I guessed that that could be good or bad, though, with the running track record. I wondered if we would be more efficient if I went out by myself, nice, delicious, and unthreatening. I didn’t tell Jonathan that idea. At least, not yet. I figured it wouldn’t go over well. I figured my hypothesis had a chance to prove itself wrong. Maybe we’d get attacked another night?

There was something inside of me that wanted that to happen.

I didn’t like it.

I tried to ignore that thought as I made my way back to my car, and then, home.


	12. A No Good, Very Bad Day

I knew I was being a cunt. 

I’d had a rough week; my arm was itching like crazy for days on end, I hadn’t seen Edward, Jess or Ethan anywhere but lunch for the last few days, my parents were giving me trouble about my near-perfect grades, and Tommy had been acting like a little shit at practice. The fight between Steve and Billy wasn’t helping, and neither was the suspicious lack of demogorgon attacks on Jonathan and I’s outings in the woods. Not to mention the fact that I still hadn’t talked to Billy like I’d promised Steve.

My distaste for Hawkins had finally started to show, and as embarrassing as it was, I was being an asshole about it. Lunch on Thursday, Ethan called me out on it. I’d probably said something about going to Carol’s party, and when Edward had said something disparaging about it, I’d defended Carol pretty nastily. 

“You’re going to hang out with that bitch?” Edward had eyed me, incredulous. 

“Yeah. Maybe I like hanging around her more than you?” I bit out. I didn’t even know why I was defending her; I really didn’t know her that well, just that she could be a bit of an asshole sometimes.

“Dude, you’re being an asshole,” Ethan eyed me warily from over the table. I was glaring at my food, poking the cold potatoes with a fork. I hated cold potatoes.

“What’s up with you? Is something up?” Jess had the heart to ask, and I just kept poking at my potatoes angrily.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Carol,” Edward joked, and Jess elbowed him, hard.

“No, I don’t,” I bit out, picking at the leather jacket I’d decided last minute to wear today. I definitely did not have a thing for Carol. 

“Jeez, man, what’s up your ass?” Edward was glaring at me. 

“I don’t know, Edward, maybe I’m just having a fucking bad day.” That definitely didn’t come out as pleasantly as I had imagined in my head, instead rolling out as heavily sarcastic, my face still glowering at my food. Edward dropped his spoon.

“I knew it. You’ve been hanging around the basketball team and Carol too much, you’re starting to be a dick,” he accused, and my head shot up, not liking what he was implying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to have other friends,” I growled, gripping my fork.

“That’s NOT what he-” Ethan tried stopping me, but I was pissed off.

“-No, Ethan. I’m sure it was.” I dropped my fork onto the table, standing up and looking away. “I get it. I’m being an asshole, I’m not wanted, I’ll leave.” 

“Fuck,” Jess mumbled as I gathered my shit to leave. I didn’t look back as the three of them watched me walk off, feeling their eyes in my back. My eyes caught the basketball team’s table as I left, meeting eyes with Tommy Hagan briefly before I walked out the door. 

I put my food in my locker, leather jacket squeaking as I moved. It wasn’t like I was going to eat it, anyway. Instead, I grabbed some textbooks and made my way to the library, hoping to get some peace and quiet to think about how I’d just fucked it up with Edward, Jess and Ethan. 

The library was pretty dim; the lights seemed to only emit about half the light the hallways lights in the school did. There was a soft hum of chatter from a few of the tables, but it was soft and welcoming. The room was only slightly colder than the lunchroom had been. The carpet I suddenly stepped onto was an odd assortment of purple and speckles of other colors, all melting together and forming and uncomfortable brown under the light, the light oak shelves sticking out jarringly from the floor.

“Thank God,” I muttered, spotting an empty table near an undisturbed corner of the room and approaching it. About five feet from it, someone popped out from behind a shelf and sat at the table, back to me. 

“Fuck God.” I knew those dirty curls anywhere. He was hunched over something he’d pulled off the shelf from the non fiction section. I looked over his shoulder at it; was Billy really reading something about psychology? 

“Hey,” I said, trying to get his attention. He jumped a bit, turning in his chair.

“What the fuck, James?” He glared, slamming his book shut. I walked around the table to the other side.

“I think I’ll join you, unless you’ve got a really good reason to make my day worse,” I told him, sitting down in the much too short seat that probably belonged in the middle school instead of the high school. 

Wait. This was the opportunity I’d been looking for to talk to Hargrove. 

Should I take it?

Naw.

Instead of doing what I’d promised to Steve, I pulled out my maths textbook and started flipping pages to the unit we were on. I could feel Billy’s eyes on me as I assessed my book, trying hard to ignore his presence. After three minutes of obvious staring I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is your problem, Billy.” I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. I wasn’t up for dealing with his shit today. He leaned back, brows furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” His question was odd and it didn’t sound like he knew what he was asking.

“Studying, same as you, dumbass.” I looked down at my textbook again. 

Why the fuck did I have to know advanced binomial theory for trigonometry?

“No, I think you’re not. I’m not either,” Billy interrupted again. I glared at him from between my textbook.

“And why the fuck do you think that?”

“You’re not usually here. I’m not usually here either.”

“How awfully observant,” I snarked, putting the textbook down again. “Want to tell the class exactly what else you think?”

“You’re avoiding your friends.”

“And you’re avoiding the team?” I raised an eyebrow at him. It was true; Billy usually sat around Tommy or smoked outside. This was abnormal behavior for both of us and we both knew it.

“So you admit it. You’re ignoring your friends.” He crossed his arms at me.

“And why the fuck do you care about it so much?” I crossed my own arms, mocking him.

He didn’t answer immediately, picking up his book and picking at the pages a bit before looking up again.

“I don’t.”

“How very convincing.”

“Ha ha,” Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re being a dick right now, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told today already,” I hissed again. “It’s not like you aren’t a dick either. What the hell was wrong with you last practice?” I targeted him, and he looked away.

“None of your business,” he grumbled. 

“Oh, really, so threatening to attack me was none of my business? Or how you got in a fight with Steve, my friend, and also the fucking TEAM CAPTAIN? I happen to be on the fucking team, Hargrove,” I pointed out. He just shrugged. 

“Listen, Billy.” I spoke softer, calming myself down a bit when I spotted a teacher glaring at me from across the shelves. “Billy,” I tried again, and he looked at me. “I got my own problems, okay? But I leave them off the court, just like I left them off the field when I played rugby. I know that’s important for the team to function like it should, okay?” 

“Just like you left your problems at the door when you came in to school with your fucking attitude today? Awfully hypocritical of you, James,” Billy muttered.

“That is not the same thing,” I defended, but I knew that I’d lost. “Okay. So maybe there are days when whatever problems we have we carry onto the court with us. That doesn’t mean your can start fights.” I knew that I was still being hypocritical, but he didn’t have to know that. 

“Mmmkay,” was all Billy said, turning back to his book. I glared at him as he did so.

“Billy.” No response. “Billy,” I tried again. Still nothing. I sighed, leaning back in my chair that was too small until the front legs came off the ground.

“Billy. Are you going to start a fight on the court again?” 

“Why the fuck would I plan on starting a fight?” He glared at me from his book.

“I don’t know. Why do you start them in the first place?” He looked back at the book at that. 

“Why are you avoiding your friends?” he mumbled at his book, ignoring my question.

“That’s-”

“-None of my business, right? Just like it’s none of your business why I start fights,” he stated, flipping a page in the book like he’d actually read something on it. I crossed my arms again. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as I toppled over backwards, my legs coming up to kick the table and bumping both our books off of it.

“Oh my fucking hell, James.” Billy was visibly trying to stop himself from laughing, bending over to grab his book while covering his smile with his other hand. I crawled off the floor, pawing at the stupid small chair and the table as I got up and back into my seat.

“Shut up,” I smiled, picking up my own book. 

We both decided to just keep reading like we hadn’t been talking before. At least, until I interrupted him again.

“Look-”

“I-”

“Oh,” I giggled. Apparently Billy and I had had the same idea. He grinned at me from across the table, book in his lap.

“Go ahead, dumbass,” he started, gesturing at me to speak first.

“Alright, fine. I, just, you were right. I’m avoiding them,” I admitted suddenly. Billy nodded like he’d expected that. I looked at him exasperatedly, tilting my head.

“Okay, and? Anything you’d like to share with the class?” he quoted at me. I crossed my arms again, this time not falling over.

“You asshole. I’ve just been on edge a lot lately, and it started showing today. My arm itches like hell-” I lifted it up for emphasis, “and honestly, that’s enough for me to be pissed, but then my parents are giving me a hard time about maths,” I held up the textbook, “and on top of that, Tommy’s being a little shit, as usual. All of that together is the recipe for my mood.” I opted not to tell him about having to keep secrets from Steve, their fight, or what was in the woods.

Billy nodded at me like he was an investigator and had gotten me to admit to murder.

“Your turn,” I pointed at him, setting the textbook onto the table once again. Billy looked up at the ceiling. 

“I dunno,” he taunted.

“Nuh uh. I shared, you have to share,” I put my elbows on the table.

He rolled his eyes, which was hard, because he was already staring at the ceiling. 

“I’m having a hard time with my dad,” he admitted after a few long seconds. I nodded.

“And?”

“And he’s an asshole. So is Max, the little shit. She’s my sister,” he offered.

“Max Mayfield?” I knew my eyebrows were raised. Billy laughed at me.

“That’d be her.”

“I think I met her. Is she in a nerd squad?”

“Sounds about right,” Billy looked down, kicking at the table legs. 

Max knows about the demogorgons. Does that mean Billy does too? 

I opted not to ask.

Billy must’ve seen me thinking hard. 

“Don’t be fooled by her charms, she’s an asshole like us,” he laughed at me. I chuckled a little with him. 

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Anything else to share? That’s, like, two things,” I held up my fingers. Billy shrugged.

“Tommy’s been annoying as hell, as usual. But you know that.”

I kept looking at him. He caved.

“Alright. I sprained my ankle and it’s been bothering me, it makes it harder to spin in position on the court and pass,” he admitted. “Don’t fucking tell anyone.” I rolled my eyes.

“Was that really so hard?” 

“Yes,” he grumbled at me. I laughed at him.

“Can you imagine what would have happened if you’d just told Steve that instead of ignoring us?” I asked him, trying to read his eyes.

“Would’ve laughed at me.”

“No,” I wagged a finger at him. “I don’t know what you think about Steve, but he’s not that much of a hardass. Or a douchebag.” I knew that Billy would've not told him anyways because of his pride, but I wanted him to know that talking to Steve wasn’t actually that hard.

“I know you two have a history. Okay? I get it. I’ve done dumb shit before, too, but Steve’s the kind of person who’d keel over if you apologized,” I emphasized. “I honestly wouldn't expect you to have told him anyways, because of your goddamn pride, but just keep it in mind, okay?” He still didn’t respond. 

“If you did tell him and Steve was a cunt about it, I’d rip him one, okay? There’d be no reason for him to react badly,” I quickly added. “You know, Steve told me it was okay if we got to know each other? You know what he told me? He told me that his biggest concern was that you’d use me to get popular, which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t exactly help you out,” I explained. Billy cringed.

“Okay, I get it, James.” His words were hard, but I could see the gears turning in his head. 

“Just…” I trailed off when Billy glared at me. 

“... if you don’t start shit, Steve wont either. Okay, I’m done,” I told him fast, as Billy looked like he wanted to say something abrasive at me. 

“Alright, I won’t fucking start shit. You happy?” he glowered.

“Very,” I told him, nodding my head. He closed his eyes, sinking into his seat. I opened my maths textbook for the last time, settling a little more into my own chair. We sat like that for a while, maybe to the end of lunch. Sometime in between Billy opened his book again and started reading for real. When the bell rang for class, he hopped up, sneaking his way back to the shelf to replace the psychology book. I picked up my own and stood up to meet him at the end of the shelf when he was done. 

“Read anything interesting?” I asked him as we started walking out of the dimly lit library. 

“Naw, nothing.” I could tell he was lying, but I didn’t press.

“I did. Did you know that Mr. Meyers is making us memorize all six of the trig ratios if we want to take pre calculus next year? And that Pascal’s triangle is full of shit?”

Billy laughed at me as we walked through the doorway into the brightly lit hallway, both of us blinking a bit before walking down the hallway. On the way to our lockers, we stopped by Tommy, who was lounging around with Carol against Carol’s locker. I didn't like Tommy, but their little couple’s spat was adorable. 

“God, Tommy, why wouldn’t I invite Vicki? I don’t care if you don’t like her, we’re friends,” she was rolling her eyes. Tommy was pouting.

“Maybe because she’s, like, had the biggest crush on me since seventh grade?” 

“Could your head get ANY BIGGER? What kind of god complex do you have to have to be that delusional? Everyone knows she’s liked Howard, for, like, forever,” she tucked her books under her arm.

“Unfortunately, a small one. Doesn’t take much to be a dick. Just read about it,” Billy interrupted, grinning aggressively as we walked up to them.

“So you DID read something helpful,” I poked. 

“Naw, you said interesting. Very different things,” he poked back. I smiled, shaking my head. 

“Billy, you gonna show at Tina’s on Saturday?” Carol smirked at Billy. Billy shrugged.

“Don’t know. Might.”

“James, I heard you’re coming to Tina’s,” Tommy eyed me. 

“Yeah, I think so,” I shrugged too. 

“If you go, I’ll go,” Billy leaned and whispered into my ear. I snorted, shoving his head away.

“Fine.” I elbowed him. “But I was already going to go.”

“Alright, Slade,” Billy was smirking at me. I wanted to smack him but someone interrupted.

“Hey, James,” and suddenly, Steve was there.

What was with Steve and showing up at awkward moments?

I waved at him, wondering why he was willing to get within ten feet of Tommy and Billy, but he walked up and stood on my right side, opposite of Billy.

“I, uh, have a really weird request to make,” he shifted, looking at me.

“Shoot,” I told him. He nodded, sniffing. I wondered if he had sinus issues.

“Alright. Dustin’s been harassing me night and day asking if you’d tell him another story. Mike, too, surprisingly, the little dipshit.” 

I was surprised, but I didn’t say anything, letting Steve continue. He looked really uncomfortable in front of the other three people there.

“Will doesn’t say as much but I think he’d like to see you too. Think you can come with us after practice tomorrow?” Steve asked, shifting from foot to foot. Tommy snickered at him, ready to bite something out, but I spoke before he got the chance.

“Sure, man. I’d love to,” I stuck my hands in my back pockets. 

“Awesome. Um, I’ll see you around?” Steve turned to walk away, but Carol stopped him.

“Hey, you coming to Tina’s Saturday?” 

Steve looked really surprised.

“I’m going,” I offered to him. He nodded again.

“Alright, maybe. Bring some Daniel’s, right?” he asked Carol, and she smiled.

“Hell yeah.” She looked at me, knowingly. “Parties are shit without Steve’s daddy’s hard stuff.” Tommy gaped at her, betrayed, but I smiled back.

“Sounds fun,” I told her honestly. Imagining Steve drunk would definitely be enough fuel to get me to the social gathering. 

“Okay, I’ll see you guys there,” Steve finally left, knowing his stay was edging on too long with both Tommy and Billy there. I turned to Billy, glad he hadn’t said anything to piss Steve off.

“See? Wasn’t it easy not to start shit?” I asked him, teasingly. He squinted at me, suddenly smiling with a lot of heat, then turned back to Tommy.

“I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” He turned back to me, eyeing me up and down.

“Like the leather, James.”

Then, Billy Hargrove promptly smacked my ass.

Tommy started howling with laughter, Carol joining him, and all I could do was watch as Billy’s tight ass swing away down the lockers.

I could feel my face turn maroon. 

“Shut up,” I growled at Tommy, and he shut up. Carol didn’t, snickering as I left them at the lockers. 

The rest of the school hours were filled with completely uneventful material in comparison to what had occurred. I couldn't stop thinking about Billy smacking my ass. Nancy tried getting my attention in chemistry, and it took her poking me with her pencil for me to snap out of it and work on our daily tasks together. I didn't get any shit done until practice. 

Once practice rolled around, I couldn’t wait to get back onto the court. I wanted to see if Billy was going to start shit again, if Steve was going to give Billy a hard time (I didn’t think he would), or if I’d have to intervene between him and Steve.

In the locker rooms, I made eye contact with Billy, giving him the ‘I’m watching you’ motions. He just grinned at me from across the room, pulling his shirt over his head. Steve looked at me funny when I looked away, and I just shook my head. 

On the court, Billy and Steve were put on seperate teams, but I was with Steve. Billy’s team was once again going shirtless. Throughout the game, Billy was giving Steve light banter, but nothing that Steve didn’t reciprocate himself. 

“Harrington, you enjoying this?” Billy asked him roughly, practically grinding up against Steve while dribbling the ball. 

“Not as much as you,” came Steve’s heavy breaths. They sure needed to work on their shit talk. I tried not to stop and cover my eyes in embarassment as I watched the ball, waiting for Billy to fuck up. He didn’t, of course, and made the shot against Steve defending him. Steve hopped back to take the ball, sprinting it up the court, and suddenly it was him up against Billy, turned to face me for better visibility of the team. I rolled my eyes when Billy grinned at me. 

“Come on, Steve, can you keep it up like me?” Billy was moving all around him as Steve twisted, trying to get away and find someone to pass to. 

“Shut up,” Steve bit at him.

“Make me,” Billy said into his neck.

Oh my fucking god. Were they fighting or flirting?

I took an opportunity to call for the ball when Steve “accidentally” elbowed Billy while dribbling and Billy took a step back. The coach didn’t blow the whistle for a foul, so I caught the ball Steve passed, taking it up the court almost undefended and shooting an easy point. I smiled, looking back at Steve. He tiredly smiled back, slapping me on the back when I passed him once the other team got the ball again.

Overall, it wasn’t a bad practice. The only noticeable difference from other practices was that Coach Riley seemed to be pushing us harder than usual, but that made sense because our first game was coming up soon. I figured Riley had given Steve and Billy a pass because they were the best players.

Even with all of the less than desirable circumstances I’d gone through, nothing that had happened previously that day would be comparable to what was waiting for me in the driveway when I got home. Usually, when I pulled into our gravel driveway, it was mostly empty, my dad’s truck still at work.

It wasn’t today. There sat the blue Ford; lights cold, definitely having sat there for a while now. When I next to it and stepped out of the wagon, someone was waiting for me on the porch. It was mum.

“Mum, it’s cold out. What’re you doing out here?” I asked, pocketing my keyes and taking my bag out of the passenger's seat. She stared at me, a cup of tea in hand.

“You’re father’s in a mood,” she said, all pissy-like. 

“Lovely,” I muttered, closing the door to the wagon and turning up the driveway.

“Don’t piss him off. I have to deal with enough already, living with the both of you,” she whined, sipping her tea. 

“I don’t usually try, mum.” Mum glared at me. 

“Just don’t.”

I nodded and walked past her into the house. Unexpectedly, it was dark inside, and even though it was still light outside, I could barely make out dad’s figure from the couch in the living room because the curtains were drawn. I dropped my bag by the door, pulling my leather jacket off and kicking off my black boots, trying to make as little sound as possible as I made my way into the kitchen. 

“Tangaroa.”

I froze, socks slipping slightly from the momentum I’d gathered reaching the wood floors of the kitchen. I turned, slowly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get over here,” the large shape huffed. I shuffled over obediently. One of his hands shot out; I couldn’t tell which one as he grabbed my arm, pinching it tight. I always wished he didn’t lift weights as much as he did when he did that. 

“Make me coffee.” He threw my arm away from himself.

Uh oh.

“Uh, sir-”

“-I SAID, make me COFFEE,” he growled, face finally turning to me. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Sir, we don’t-”

“-You going to disobey me?”

“No, sir.”

“Then move your arse.”

“We don’t have coffee,” I shot out, then regretted it immediately. Dad sat up, now very, very angry. 

“Do you think I fucking care?”

“Sir, then where-”

“I don’t care. I want coffee, in my hands, in five minutes.”

Fuck. It took eight minutes to get to the store. I decided against telling him that, or the fact that mum hated coffee in the house, and rushed into the kitchen. I immediately set a kettle on the stove. My hands were shaking as I reached into the cupboard, looking around in the dark, trying to find some kind of coffee to make. I knew we didn’t have any, but I was hopeful. When I knew for sure we didn’t have any, I started scrambling for something else to make. 

Would he notice if I made tea instead?

Yes. Yes, he would notice. Shit.

Did I have a choice anyways?

I reached for the english breakfast, what I figured would be the closest to coffee. That’s when I saw it out of the corner of my eye; something was glinting under the sink, barely visible from the cracked open cupboard. I leaned down, opening the door just enough to see the glass Hennessey bottle sitting under the pipes.

Fully understanding my new predicament, I started shaking even more as I threw some of the tea into a random mug from the drying rack, waiting impatiently for the water in the kettle to boil. I suddenly couldn’t remember if dad liked it with sugar or not. Did he like cream? Would he prefer milk? 

I could hear dad’s body fall off the couch, then his footsteps heavily traveling towards the kitchen doorway. He peered in at me as I shook over the stove, willing it to heat faster.

“Why is it taking so long?” he growled, voice low. I spun around. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes since he’d asked me to make coffee.

“It’s only been two minutes, sir,” I mumbled, trying to set my voice straight. Dad laughed low and without humor.

“I don’t think so, Tangaroa. I think you’re lying to me.” he leaned on the doorway.

How had I not smelled the whisky on him when he’d grabbed me before?

Oh, right. He’d started washing up after mum caught him last time.

“Listen, dad, I’ve had a rough day,” I tried, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. 

“You’ve had a rough day, huh? YOU’VE had a rough day?” he laughed again, slapping a hand on his knee dramatically.

“Let me tell you something, Tangaroa,” he started stepping closer to me. I backed into the stove, knowing exactly what was going to happen, feeling the heat of the kettle starting to boil behind me. Dad got right into my face.  
“You. Don’t. Tell. Me. You’ve. Had. A. Rough. Day.” He poked a finger into my chest with each word, hard. I knew it was going to bruise. 

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, and he got closer.

“You know what I did at work today, huh? Can you guess what I did at work today?”

I knew it wasn’t going to be anything I hadn’t heard before, but I didn’t tell him that either. I just stood there.

“I had to stand there and take flack from an intern. An intern,” he growled, “because apparently, they’d ‘spent more time there’ than I have,” he quoted, eyes glinting. 

“Okay, dad,” I could smell the alcohol now from the breath he was shoveling into my face.

“What was that, brat?” he grinned.

“Nothing, sir,” I quickly let out, but he was shoving me into the stove top.

Shit, shIT, SHIT.

I could feel the hot kettle and the flames in my back. I did my best not to let out any sound as he pushed me further into it, knocking the kettle back and extinguishing the flames on the stove top. I quickly fumbled to turn the gas off, knowing that dad probably wasn’t coherent enough to realize it had been on.

“How’re your grades, Tangaroa?” Dad’s voice got even lower. 

Shit. Now he was looking for excuses to shove me round.

“Fantastic,” I told him. “Doing well, even in maths.”

“I find out you’re lying, there won’t be a piece left of you to graduate,” he grumbled, finally letting me go. I hopped off of the stove top, trying to feel my back and realizing that there was now a huge hole through my grey sweater, not to mention the blinding pain seeping through it.

Dad shuffled off back to the couch. I briefly wondered if he still wanted me to make “coffee”, before deciding against it and running out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I quickly shed the sweater and the ruined band shirt underneath it, ruffling through my drawers before painfully throwing on another of each. Running back down the stairs, I caught a quick glimpse of dad on the couch, knocked out. 

Finally.

I shoved my boots back on, not bothering to lace them up as I shoved my leather jacket back on and ignored the pain it sent up my back. I ripped the door open, hustling out and pulling my keys from my pocket. Mum was still outside, sipping her damn tea. I glared at her.

“Is he still upset?” 

“Yeah, but he’s passed out on the couch now,” I told her. 

“He works so hard,” she mumbled, smiling into her tea. 

Fuck. She didn’t know about the Hennessey. Well, I wasn’t about to tell her.

“I won’t be in for dinner today, I’ve got to practice maths with someone in class,” I made up a lie on the spot, moving around mum and towards the wagon.

“Alright. Be quiet coming back in,” she shot back at me, and I nodded as I dove into the driver’s seat, pushing the clutch down and pulling out of the driveway as fast as I could. 

Sitting down in the car felt like shit. If my back didn’t hurt before, it hurt ten times worse now. Reluctant to move from the new spot I’d fallen into, I opted to drive around until I could move again without tearing up.

I was driving until the sun was going down again, stopping only when I’d decided exactly what I was going to do next. That was going to be walking into the woods past the Byers and finding something to fucking beat the hell out of. 

I parked a bit from the Byers house, although it was still visible from where I sat. I’d hoped no one had seen or heard me pull up. Grabbing my flashlight and cigarettes, I darted out of the car as fast as I could, fingering and lighting a fag almost immediatly. 

The lights were on in the Byers house, but I ignored them. It wasn’t one of the scheduled days for me to bother Jonathan. Instead of knocking, I walked around the back and continued into the underbrush below the trees. The Byers’ dog looked up at me briefly as I passed, whining a bit as I looked back, flicking my flashlight on. When I looked back, I saw Jonathan pass one of the windows before stopping, looking outside. I ducked a bit, turning walking further out and hoping he hadn't seen me. 

I rushed through the brush, trying to get as far into the woods as I could, hoping to get attacked by something as fast as possible. 

I think I laughed when I came across Castle Byers completely by accident, unaware of the direction I was traveling in. I don’t really remember much about the trip there. I just know how livid I was at everything and everyone, stomping around the fort, and yelling into the woods.

“COME FIND ME, BITCHES! COME AND GET SOME SLADE!” I slapped my chest like an idiot. Nothing came out immediately, and I growled, pacing around the fort. As I paced, I could feel an odd sensation crawling up my spine again, and I knew something was out there and close. I laughed darkly. 

“Come and find me,” I sang into the trees, grinning like a psychopath. In a brief moment of clarity, I remembered Wheeler saying something about blood drawing them to you. I stomped over to the fort, flashing the light on it and feeling around for a sharp piece of wood, eager to make myself bleed. Most of it was well rounded, and I got frustrated very fast, yelling at it and hitting a log, splitting the skin on my hand. 

“Ha ha ha.” I smiled at my glistening knuckles once they started to gleam with dark, wet material, blood starting to stick to itself and coagulate fast. The hair on my arms rose almost immediately after I’d split my knuckles open. I spun around once I noticed, face splitting further and further into what I knew must’ve been a creepy as hell expression as I smiled into the darkness. Sure enough, after a few agonizing minutes of waiting, something started forming in front of the beam of my flashlight.

“Come on out,” I sang at it, settling into a good and proper fighting stance as it approached. I recognized it as a demagog as it got closer, smaller than the demogorgon. This would be easy to take down.

Different than before, I didn’t give it the chance to attack me first. I barreled at it, launching myself at its face and grabbing it much like I had before, but more efficiently, not letting it grab a hold of me by its teeth. 

“You little bitch,” I hissed at it as I pummeled it. “I’ll kill you nice and good, and you’re going to put up a good fight.” It sure did, it’s limbs clawing at me as I slammed into its face repeatedly. 

Once again, I lost track of time, simply hitting it repeatedly until it was a mess of goo like it’s siblings had been before. It was closer to one in the morning when Jonathan finally found me, still kicking the hell out of the dead body.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he said, eyes wide as he flashed his own flashlight onto me and the body. I didn’t stop kicking it, simply smiling and waving at him before turning back to the goo pile. Jonathan ran up once he recognized me, grabbing my discarded flashlight off of the ground and walking it over to me.

“James?” He spoke softly. I didn’t stop kicking the demogog. “James,” he grabbed my arm. I shook it out of his grip, hard. “What’re you doing out here?” he tried again, getting closer. 

“Kindly fuck off,” I finally said, heaving as I kicked the goo again. 

“Hell no.” And with that, Jonathan was pulling me off of the pile. I flailed, maybe hitting Jonathan a few times, tired out of my mind and still burning with pain in my back. The adrenaline wasn’t helping.

“JAMES.” Jonathan grabbed at my arms, pinning me. I suddenly froze, realising the situation.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, you’re in deep shit,” Jonathan muttered back. “You injured?”

“How did you find me,” I ignored his question. Jonathan complied.

“I think our dog caught you sneaking around, I heard him whining from inside the house. Saw your flashlight in the woods after that and followed it,” he explained, “but I lost it pretty fast, you were running too quickly. Had to follow your screaming, and after that, found the light from your flashlight again.”

I let his words rush over me, using them to bring myself to earth and calm down. 

“Okay.”

“Will you follow me back now?”

“Okay.”

“Alright.” Jonathan handed me my flashlight back, and I took it, blankly holding it in front of myself. Jonathan sighed, grabbing my shoulder and leading me back past Castle Byers and into the trees.

By the time we reached the Byers residence, Jonathan had moved his hand, leading me gently by the upper arm as we approached the lit windows. Joyce was on the back porch, fiddling her hands as we got closer. I must have looked like shit. When I looked down to check, I noticed I was covered in the dark goo of the demogog. 

Shit.

“Where have you been?” Joyce called at us once she caught sight of us.

“Took me a while to find him, he was by the fort,” Jonathan called back. Joyce huffed and opened the back door.

“Inside, both of you, and fast. It’s freezing and late.” 

Jonathan and I both rushed a little faster to get inside at her words.

“I’ve got hot cocoa on the stove already, it’s been simmering for a few hours but it should be okay,” Joyce fretted once we got inside.

“Mom, I’m sure it’s fine. We’ll just sit in the kitchen for a while,” Jonathan gestured into the kitchen for me to follow him, dropping my arm. 

“Alright, boys. Try to be quiet, Will’s asleep. I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” Joyce helpfully backed out of the hallway and into a room. I turned to follow Jonathan into the kitchen, stripping off my jacket and sweater shakily. As I sat in the same place I’d sat before, Jonathan shut off the stove and pulled what I assumed was the hot cocoa off of it. He sniffed it and rolled it around in the pot.

“Seems okay. Want some?”

“Yes, thanks.” I was finally starting to feel the cold after the heat of my anger had worn off, my levels of adrenaline dropping. 

Jonathan quickly lifted the pot away from the stove and dumped it unceremoniously into two mugs he grabbed from the cupboard. I noticed the same yellow mug I’d gotten from the time before, which Jonathan passed to me.

We sat there in silence, the only sound of us sipping from the hot cocoa as we stared at each other under the light of the glass lamp above us. Once we’d both reached halfway through our mugs, Jonathan reached the courage to question me.

“What were you doing out there?” 

I looked away.

“I have a bad feeling that they won’t attack if both of us are out there together,” I told him a half truth. He accepted it with some obvious dissatisfaction. 

“Fuck, James, there are ways to get around that besides going out alone without telling anyone.”

I looked into my mug, swirling the chocolate around guiltily. Jonathan leaned forward at my lack of response.

“Why were you really out there,” he asked, eyes boring holes into me. I shrugged.

“Bad day,” I admitted. Jonathan leaned back, sighing,

“Okay. Fine. I won’t ask anything else. Just grab me before you do this again? Please?” 

I nodded at that, sipping from my mug. 

“Okay.”

And with that, the silence prevailed once more until Joyce came back, about seven minutes later.

“James, you should stay the night. It’s getting late,” she told me, eyes earnest. I shook my head.

“No, I should probably be getting back home,” I tried, but she shook her own head.

“Nuh uh. You’re staying over, you’re obviously tired. I don’t want you crashing when you drive the way back.” She paused, looking at me. “Did you get injured when you got attacked again?”

I shook my head, falling into a pattern.

“Did you get injured before?”

Holy shit, nothing got past Joyce Byers. 

When I didn’t respond, Jonathan looked at me funny, but Joyce just sighed and walked over.

“Where, honey?”

“Back,” I mumbled, embarrassed. She moved around behind me.

“Can I lift up your shirt?”

“Sure.” I recognized there wasn’t much I could do to fight off Joyce if I tried, so I gave up before the fight started. 

Her small fingers felt cold through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, slowly lifting, then tugging where it had stuck to my burn.

God, that meant it was at least second degree.

“Oh, honey,” Joyce muttered, lightly touching around the burn. I flinched away from her cold fingers. I did my best to ignore Jonathan’s odd stare from across the table. 

“Here, give me a moment,” I said, standing and moving away from the chair. “That better?” I turned at her, and she nodded.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Let me grab some things.” Then, she was off. I finally looked at Jonathan.

“What?” I glared at him.

“Where’d you get hurt?”

“Nosey much?” I sighed. “Fell into the stove at home. Just a bit of a burn. That stove is dangerous,” I laughed awkwardly.

I could tell Jonathan didn’t believe me, though I had no idea why. I was always a good liar (not that lied to my friends often).

Joyce hurried back inside, a small cluster of objects I quickly recognized in her hands.

I just let her do what she needed to do, letting her pull my shirt off completely and move her hands all over the burn, only wincing a few times. Joyce apologized every time I winced, nothing escaping her notice as she did whatever she was doing. I couldn’t exactly see what she was doing. I tried to tell her to stop apologizing, but she wasn’t having it.

Once she was done, Joyce rephrased that I wasn’t going home this late before offering her phone for my use. I had to tell her that it didn’t matter this late and my parents had definitely gone to bed already. She put me on their couch, gathering a massive mound of extra blankets from various corners of the house for me to use. Once again, I felt myself growing uncomfortable with the unfamiliar feeling I got around Joyce when she was being too kind.

That night, I slept heavier and more comfortably than I had in a long while.


	13. Playing Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this chapter. I got hung up on character choices.

Bless Joyce Byers and her pain pills.

I’d somehow managed to fall asleep through the burning of my back. In the morning, it was Joyce who shook me awake, offering me coffee and cereal and handing me some of Jonathan’s clothes. Though grateful, I opted to just drink a bit of coffee, swallow some more pills, and rush back to my house to change into clothes that would actually fit me. 

Stepping inside, I noticed dad’s car was still in the driveway, meaning he skipped his run. The lights were off, which meant mum and dad were probably still asleep. I snuck back in pretty easily. When the floorboards creaking in the kitchen woke up my mum after I’d gotten dressed and was trying to find something fast to eat, she acted like I’d been there the entire time, simply going to drink her morning tea and ignoring me like she usually did.

On the drive to school, I smoked two cigarettes, driving with my window down and letting the smoke drift by as I drove. I usually didn’t feel like smoking before school, but today I felt like I needed the extra lift in tandem with the coffee from Joyce. My cigarettes kept me warm. The weather was helping me out, too; it was one of those mornings where the ice was starting to thaw again, which meant it wasn’t too painful to keep the window down while driving. Walking into the school was different, because somehow, the bustling narrow hallways were chilled, making me pull my sweater’s sleeves down as I approached my locker.

That’s when I saw it, stopping as I pulled my sleeves half way down. There was something poking out of my locker. Whatever it was was red, looking like it had been soaked in glitter, and was barely poking out through the slits near the top of my locker.

I didn’t ever fill up my locker that high with my shit.

I apprehensively rolled my combination, slowly pulling my locker open a crack when I saw what was inside.

There must have been at least ten letters, some attached to small fist-sized boxes or bags that definitely didn’t fit through the openings in my locker, making me wonder who the hell had my combination. I slowly pulled it further open, looking around as I did so to make sure no one was watching. The glittery red letter from the top fell out; I snatched it up quickly, hoping no one had seen it before looking at it behind my locker door.

Oh shit, was that my name in cursive on the back?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Oh boy.

A memory flickered into being in my mind, something Jess had said about valentines coming up. 

Was valentines today?

No, it must have been yesterday. 

Based on the horror show in my locker, I was not sad that I’d missed it. Curious, I opened the red letter, glitter falling to the floor as I peeled it open.

How had I not noticed this shit at lunch?

Well, maybe it had only appeared later.

Inside the envelope was more red. I was starting to get sick of it. It wasn’t even a good shade of red; it was pale, more like a faded magenta than a true red. I pulled out the letter, not bothering to read much of it, only coming across words like “crush” and “cute”. It made me want to puke. I looked at the name; who the hell was Stacy Caldwell? I turned back to the rest of the contents of my locker, shuffling things around a bit, sighing. I figured I should probably address all of them before class and before people expected me to do anything about them, like respond. 

There was one from an Elizabeth, a Rebecca, a Mary, an Anna, a Margaret, and ew, Jennifer? That was my mum’s name. After that I stopped reading the names, besides a more formal note from Tina about the party the next day. It was nice to know that she was inviting me specifically and it wasn’t just Carol who wanted me there. The boxes were a wide assortment of cakes, chocolates, or in one case, a pack of unfiltered Camels with a little note and no name attached. That one was funny; I could hardly imagine a girl giving me that one, because it said something to the idea of “fuck you and I’m sorry you’re a little pussy”. I had no idea what that was supposed to be about, but I pocketed the fags anyways, reading the note again. Specifically, it read more along the lines of “smoke these when moping about not having a girl instead of those unfiltered sticks, fucking pussy”. I hoped it had been one of the guys who’d given it to me, because it was funny as hell. 

The cakes I thought about giving to Edward, Jess and Ethan, because I didn’t like cake, but decided against it. They probably wouldn’t want to see me at lunch and I didn’t blame them. I ate one of the chocolates before heading to class, surprised when the sharp tang of high volume bourbon stung my tongue. I couldn’t deny that it was good. The cigarettes and chocolate put me in a considerably better mood that morning.

That mood had to have been vanquished, of course, which was in maths. We were getting handed back some homework from earlier that week when the teacher handed me my papers back with a glaring 81%. I feel like I should clarify something; I, personally, did not give a damn about school. To hell with it. My parents, though? They got upset if I got anything less than an A. That included an A minus, let alone a B minus.

I hoped to hell and back that dad didn’t remember grilling me (literally, haha) about my grades the night before when I’d lied to him about maths. He didn’t usually remember being drunk, after all, but he only got drunk once in a blue moon, so I had no idea what really to expect. 

I tried to force my thoughts into something slightly less depressing, and that was where I was going to eat my lunch that day. The trio I usually ate with were out of the question. When I got back to my locker, I pulled out more chocolates along with my lunch, because the girl (I checked the name after class, it was Tammy) had given me ten of the delicious raspberry bourbon ones. I knew that I’d absolutely have to thank her for them. As I closed my locker, I turned, observing the hallway. No one caught my eye immediately, but after some perusing, I caught Jonathan and Wheeler talking while walking in the direction of the gym.

Making a split-second decision, I caught up to them, calling out to them.

“Hey, Jonathan!” They both spun around.

“I’ve got some fantastic chocolates from yesterday, and you’ve got to try them. Both of you,” I showed them the box, grinning. They both seemed to get the idea, smiling back and beckoning for me to follow them outside and to the football field. I really didn’t like the idea of third-wheeling them all lunch, but it sounded better than sitting with the trio again, and I liked my options. We managed to keep up some light chatter as we made our way to the stands.

“Any problems in the woods so far?” Nancy had asked brightly once out of earshot of any other people.

“No attacks yet,” Jonathan answered, “except, of course, when we went out last night. James killed it like the others; didn’t even get injured. He’s getting good,” he nodded at me. I got the feeling he was willingly keeping what had really happened from Nancy for me. 

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for last night,” I told him. I’d almost forgotten to thank him too. 

“No problem, you had it handled,” Jonathan replied. Nancy looked between us quickly but didn’t say anything.

We sat down, pulling out our lunches. I offered the chocolates again, and they both took one.

“Holy shit, this is good. Who gave you these?” Jonathan asksed.

“Tammy. I don’t really know who that is, though,” I admitted. 

“Tammy Thompson? No way, she’s had a crush on Steve for forever,” Nancy said, eyes wide. I shrugged.

“Kind of makes sense though, after everything that happened with Tommy and Billy,” Jonathan surmised. “He’s not exactly keg king anymore, is he?”

“Keg king? Steve was keg king? It’s hard to imagine that.” I opened my soup in it’s thermos.

“Yeah, he’s a lot different now. Tries to act the same, but it’s still different,” Jonathan bit into his sandwich. 

“So Tammy’s probably after fame and fortune? She probably saw me around Tommy and Billy,” I joked, spooning my soup into my mouth.

“Who knows, it’s Tammy,” Nancy forked her ranch salad. “I barely know her from some parties.”

Throughout their conversations the rest of lunch, they kept including me. I really appreciated it. Nancy seemed like she was warming up to me; I wondered if the chocolate helped. In Chemistry, Nancy was a bit chattier than usual, talking about things other than what we were working on. I ate four of the chocolates in that one sitting, which left three to share with Steve or someone else. 

When practice rolled around, I was still in a pretty good mood, even if there was that one maths 81% in the back of my mind. Even Billy and Steve still giving each other shit on the court was amusing to me rather than discouraging. Of course, when Billy full on knocked Steve over illegally and the coaches didn’t say shit, I raised my eyebrows at him and gave him the evil eye, but I couldn’t feel too mad at him regardless. I knew my mirth was showing through, because Billy visibly didn’t take me seriously when I reacted like that, laughing me off and wagging his tongue like Gene Simmons. His stupid St. Christopher pendant bounced against his chest along with his curls as he grinned at me. The only thing I could do in response was roll my eyes at him.

Coach was having me play more as center after Billy and Steve had fought. Once in a while, he purposefully put Billy and Steve together to try getting them to practice teamwork, and while they weren’t throwing hands at each other, they weren’t exactly working together. The more and more I watched Billy, the more and more I realized that he had a hard time trusting other players. He kind of had a reason to; he was the best player on the court, but that meant shit when he wouldn’t even pass to Tommy. Once the week before, I’d heard one of the other guys (Marcus?) comment that Billy was just so self absorbed that he wanted all of the glory during practice, but I knew that couldn’t be true, because sometimes (just sometimes) he would give up the ball to give someone else a chance to score. This practice, he even let Steve have it once, although he was hard pressed to give it away by two defenders like he had been last time. In observation, I also noticed that he got stuck in his head a lot. I did, too, which is why I could recognize it in another player. That’s part of what made Billy slower to pass and, surprisingly (considering his personality), slower to accept a pass, but that was harder to see because of how often he started with the ball or stole it himself from the other team. 

Something else struck me as odd. Billy was not a vocal player, like Steve or Tommy. He rarely called for the ball, asked for help, or really communicated, at all. The only times I caught him vocalizing something was when he was giving someone shit or laughing at someone. It was weird; he was pretty vocal outside of the court, and yeah, some guys can get concentrated and lose focus of the rest of the team, but to Billy, it seemed like the rest of the team wasn’t there. It was almost like he thought of himself like an outsider, an enemy, and that he didn’t have teammates. That was somewhat concerning. The only non-concerning thing about it was that I was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was self-centered or selfish. 

On a water break, I wondered if anyone else had noticed. I tried to bring it up with Steve.

“You’re going to need to hear me out on this, okay?” I was defending after Steve had looked at me like I was crazy. “I think he’s stuck in his head, overthinking shit. I do that too, but I recognize it and work on it,” I pointed out. “I don’t think he thinks of himself as a part of the team yet. Of course, I think he’s going to be different when we actually play somebody, but I’m it might get worse. That could be him bitching around more than usual.”

That got Steve’s attention.

“You think he can get worse? Shit,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, shit. I have a feeling he’s acting like a bitch because he can’t work shit out, and if that starts happening on court too? That’s coming out on us. You know whose job it is to deal with that?” 

Steve didn’t didn’t respond.

“Listen, Steve-”

“-No. No way in hell.”

“Steeeevvveeee…..” I whined, setting my water bottle down.

“Slade, there’s no way in hell I’m buddying up to Hargrove and working with him.”

“Let me explain?”

“No.”

“I’m going anyway. So, we both know Billy’s too prideful to-”

“-No.”

“-Let me finish. As I was saying, I think what we need to do is have a team activity.”

“Goddamnit, of all the WORST ideas-”

“-Hear me out, Steve, Jesus. Listen. I KNOW you’ve got issues with the team, too, so this could benefit both of you. I’m saying that teamwork is one of our biggest issues right now, especially since it’s centered around Hargrove because he’s our best player. You can’t deny that.”

“.... yeah.”

“Just, it’s just an idea, okay? I’m not exactly in a position to improve the team. Hell, I’m like a week and a half into basketball,” I told him, knowing he knew what I was getting at, “but I’ve done sports long enough to know how a team is supposed to work, alright? This team isn’t working like that. It’s not just Billy’s fault, either, it’s everyone’s.” 

Steve sipped his water, humming. After a few seconds he shrugged.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Steve.” I clapped him on the back, making him choke on his water a bit. He glared at me as I ran back onto the court at the coach’s whistle. 

I knew Steve would probably notice the burn on my back in the showers, but I definitely wasn’t expecting him to analyze it.

“Man, I can see the pattern of the burner,” Steve grimaced, jabbing at it with a finger. When he pointed it out, I remembered that it hurt. I’d been trying to forget about the pain.

“Yeah?” I turned, trying to look at the burn (and failing). “I can’t see shit from here, does it look bad?”

“It doesn’t look awful? But you can definitely tell it was a stove. Looks like it hurts.”

“Lovely.” I turned back into the water, scowling and grabbing the soap. Steve laughed next to me.

“The attacks, and this? A bit accident prone, huh?” 

I chuckled in response, leaving it at that. Steve could think what he wanted to, it let me off explaining some bullshit reason for things.

There was a low whistle from behind me when I turned my face into the stream of water.

“Damn, James, that looks pretty gnarly.” Fuck, that was Billy. I looked over my shoulder at him. He was standing two meters away and looking at my back, a towel around his waist. 

“Fuck, Billy, do you ever NOT stare at my ass?” I sassed him. He just grinned his usual grin back.

“What? I thought your ass was your best feature,” he folded his arms.

“It sure is.”

“Then you should have no problem with it.” Billy fucking WINKED.

I dropped the soap.

“Oh my god.” I leaned forward into the water, gripping the tile as I tried to ignore the heat in my face. I could hear Billy laughing as he walked away. Steve looked at me apologetically. Mouth open, I turned on him.

“How the hell can he say shit like that?” I quietly gaped, and Steve shrugged.

“Ah, comeon, James, it’s not that bad-”

“-No, not like that. How can he say that shit and get away with people thinking he’s fucking STRAIGHT?” I questioned, exaggeratedly whispering. Steve stopped, thinking.

“I have no idea,” he admitted after a few seconds. I sighed, grabbing the soap off of the floor from where I’d dropped it.

“Like, I get acting like other guys are your bitches is some kind of goddamn dominance play, but him? That’s not what a guy who likes girls looks like.”

“I dunno. I wouldn’t, uh, want to assume anything-”

“-Of course not. It’s just,” I waved my hands, exasperated. “People here are so conservative anyways, and yet I haven’t heard a single rumor, only speculation. This is fucking highschool. Why the hell hasn’t anyone started shit?”

“Probably because he could kick anyone’s ass?” Steve rolled his eyes, then paused, thinking. “I don’t know, James, and I don’t think I want to.”

“Even if he’s threatening to a lot of people, and might I clarify, he DOES NOT scare me, that wouldn’t be enough to stop rumors, you know? And people just let it go.”

“It helps that he fucks a lot of girls at parties. I remember he said something a few months ago about ‘leaving some bitches for me’.”

“Oh. That might do it.” I hummed, thinking. “Well, it’s kind of an overcompensating deal, though.” I started washing myself. “I don’t really care if he’s gay, I just- how the hell does he not get rumors about it?”

“Really, you don’t care if one of the guys is gay?” 

I shook my head, not looking at Steve. “No. I really don’t. I just- it bothers me that he gets a free pass for being a dick. People die over rumors, you know. What, do you care if some of the guys are gay?” I did look at him at that.

“Uh, well, I haven’t thought about it,” Steve grabbed the soap from me.

“Okay.” I stopped, going back to rinsing off. The conversation ended there. It was a bit awkward, to be honest, but at least Steve knew I wasn’t a homophobe. I wanted to make that very clear. 

After the showers, Steve reminded me about telling the kids another story. I smiled, waving him off and telling him I’d meet them at the arcade.

When I pulled up at the arcade, Steve was lounging against his ugly beemer, hands in his jacket, waiting. I looked in his car, and sure enough, all the kids were already in the arcade.

“Hey,” I said, bending out of my door and slamming it behind me. 

“Hey.” Steve smiled.

I nodded at the door to the arcade. “Kids already in?”

“Yeah. Hey, I was thinking,” Steve’s hands were moving around in his pockets, his fluffy hair shifting slightly in the wind. “The kids are really excited, but I thought it would be cool if you told them the story over some cocoa? It just seems like it would be fun, maybe we could stop by the Wheeler’s or Byers’ and all the kids could sit down while you tell it. Only if you’re free later, of course,” he rushed.

“I’m free until eight, then I’ve got to be somewhere. That sounds like fun,” I reassured Steve. He looked relieved. 

“Awesome. Okay. Um, I’ll call Joyce or something?” Steve scrambled, and I nodded. He jumped off the beemer, muttering “right then” and walked quickly into the arcade, change jingling in his pockets, leaving me next to my wagon. I sat down on the green hood, waiting. 

A few minutes later and Steve was back out. His face was red, like he was embarrassed, but when he saw me, he smiled.

“The Byers is the spot,” he called, then moved back to his beemer and sat on his own hood. “I let the kids know we’re leaving at six, then we’ll have at least an hour at the Byers. That sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” I kicked my feet like a child from the side of my car. “Oh, shit. Right.” I stepped off the hood of my car, opening the passengers side and pulling out my bag. I’d stuffed the remnants of valentines in there.

“Tammy Thompson made these wicked good chocolates. I think they’re bourbon, you should try them,” I pulled the small box out. Steve jumped at the box.

“God, I forgot how good they were. Tammy gave me some last year, you know?” he stuffed one in his mouth, eyes rolling a bit with pleasure. “Fuck. Yes, those are definitely Tammy’s,” he grinned at me, chocolate in his teeth. 

“Do you like cake? I don’t, but I got a lot of that too,” I offered my bag up. Steve stuck his hands in, pulling out what boxes more obviously held cake.

“Yes, god, yes,” he murmured, “I love cake.”

I stuck a note about Steve liking cake to the back of my head as I watched him pull out the homemade cake from Jennifer. He was clearly in his happy place, smiling dorkily as he stuffed a handful of it in his face, no fork to be seen.

“Stop. You’re making a mess,” I grabbed some of the cake from him, setting it beside him on the hood of his car. “Hold on, I’ve got a fork in my bag.” I dug around a bit, finding the spoon I’d used for my lunch. “Shit. Okay, not a fork, and I used it for lunch, but it’s a spoon,” I offered it up. Steve grabbed it, hands messy.

“Thanks,” he said, before digging into Jennifer’s cake again. 

“No problem,” I said quietly as an afterthought, watching him absolutely destroy the cake. Within a minute, it was gone, and he moved on to the one from Mary. Then the one from Anna. When I observed that he’d probably go through all of the cake waiting for the kids to finish, I opened my back wider, pulling out the last two and setting them next to Steve along with the others. He watched me, stopping me before I could close it.

“Who's that from?” he mouthed around a bite of cake, muffled, pointing at the box of Camels.

“Oh, I dunno,” I shrugged. “Note is funny, though. Really don’t think it’s from a girl.” I pulled it out, note still attached, handing it to Steve. He looked it over.

“I don’t think I recognize the handwriting. Which is weird, because I can recognize most of the guys, but this is pretty good handwriting for a dude,” he elaborated.

“I know, right? I was surprised when I read it.” 

Steve looked it over, examining it. 

“Most of the guys smoke Marlboro Reds, which I think are filtered, which narrows it down. Still don’t know who smokes unfiltered Camels with this handwriting. Or this attitude.” Steve shrugged. “I’d say it was from Hargrove, but he smokes Reds too, I think-” he stopped. “I really don’t know. Even I used to smoke Camels. I only smoke once in a while now, and when I do, it’s lights. I don’t want to catch cancer.”

“Hmmm. So he’d call you a pussy, too.” I opened the box, pulling out one of the fags. “I’d offer you one, but you wouldn’t take it, right?”

“For sure.”

“Really sounding like it’s Billy, but if he smokes Reds, that puts him out. Unless he’s a hypocritical bitch?” I questioned, lighting the cigarette. Steve watched me as I pulled a breath from it.

“Not your usual, huh?” he asked. I shook my head. 

“A little bit much,” I admitted, “but I’ve been smoking more than usual recently, so not a problem.”

“Stressed?”

I shrugged. “A bit. Getting attacked at night repeatedly doesn’t help.”

Steve nodded, brows furrowing. “Yeah, that sucks.” I watched him as he looked away. I could tell that his brain was overheating from what he was thinking about, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask.

We both sat and chatted on our respective cars for the rest of the kid’s time in the arcade, myself smoking and getting through two more camels. We both knew our time was up once the roar of Billy’s camaro filled the dimming parking lot, the lights of the arcade growing brighter with the passing minutes as the sun started to set.

When Billy got out, I tried to wave him over. Billy just awkwardly waved back, sitting on his own car hood a few spaces away from the beemer and playing with his keys. Steve didn’t even look over. 

“Maxine is more than a few minutes late from the time you gave me and I’m going in, Harrington,” he glared over. I looked at Steve, my cigarette drooping from my lips.

“He’s not allowed in?” I whispered, ignoring Billy's forehead crinkle as he looked at me whispering with Steve.

“Uh, no. He is, but not when the kids are playing. Stipulation of what happened a few months ago.” Steve didn’t bother lowering his voice.

“Large word for you, Harrington,” Billy called, folding his arms. “Didn’t think you’d know what that word meant.”

I gave Billy a look from over Steve’s shoulder, taking a long puff from my fag. Steve still didn’t look at Billy.

“You going to try starting a fight again, Billy? Come on, man,” I folded my own arms. He ignored me.

“You got James protecting you now, huh, Harrington?” Billy drawled, head tilting. 

“You shut up and I’ll give you chocolate,” I stood up, opening my bag again. Billy surprisingly did shut up, not saying anything until I started making my way over, my second to last chocolate from Tammy in my hand. Steve turned, watching us as I walked. Once I reached the camaro, I held out my hand. Billy didn’t move.

“Just fucking take it,” I shoved it in his face when he took too long to grab it. 

Billy paused, then grinned, before unfolding his arms and scooting closer, bending his chin down and eating the bourbon chocolate out of my hand, not breaking eye contact with me. I stood there, frozen, as his stupidly long tongue brushed against the palm of my hand as he lapped at a bit of the chocolate that had melted against my skin.

“HOLY FUCKING HELL-” I snatched my hand back, exasperated. My cigarette fell from my mouth to the pavement.

“You keep fucking with me and I might take you up on shit,” I joked, trying to dig at Billy. He just sat there, not responding, palms against the edge of his hood as he licked his lips. He was still looking at me. 

For some reason, it felt like he’d won. I bent over to pick up what was left of my fag as I turned back to my car, embarrassed. Steve watched with wide eyes as I came over. 

“What the FUCK,” he whispered at me as I made the turn past him to my wagon hood. I shrugged.

“I don’t know how to respond to him anymore,” I muttered back, angrily. “What the fuck am I fucking supposed to do?”

“What the fuck,” Steve kept saying, staring at me as I sat. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know. What the fuck was that?” I grabbed my bag, closing it.

“No, what the fuck as in what the fuck, I think you were right.” 

“Right about what?” I looked back up at Steve.

“He- no, there’s- well-” Steve was fumbling for words. I looked over him back at Billy. He’d pulled out a fag and was lighting up, breaking eye contact with me. I turned back to Steve.

“Oh my god. Steve, shut up. Look at his cigarettes,” I whispered, eyes wide and nodding my head over to Billy. He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and turned to me, eyes open as well.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” I gave Steve a look.

We both made a point of not looking at Billy, frozen and silent.

Soon the kids came out, loud and clamoring towards the cars and I could turn away from Steve and to the noise. Max was already glaring at Billy from the sidewalk, but everyone else seemed happy enough to make their way to Steve’s car. 

“Oh, shit. Right. What the hell do I tell Billy about Max coming over to the Byers?” Steve thought out loud before the kids got over.

“I’ll handle it,” I told him, though I didn’t know how I would. Before Max could make her way over to the camaro, I hopped up, making my way back over to Billy.

“Hey, Billy. So, tonight we were hoping Max would come over to the Byers. We’re going to have cocoa and shit-”

“-No.” Billy wouldn’t look at me, taking a long puff of his cigarette. I scowled at him.

“The kids have kind of been looking forward to-” I tried again, but was interrupted again.

“-I said no, James. Drop it.” He still wouldn’t look at me.

“Um, no, I’m not going to drop it if you won’t even let me finish,” I growled. “Listen, and then answer, alright?” Billy looked up at me, then shrugged and looked away.

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

“God, you’re an asshole. Okay, so we were planning on the kids coming over to the Byers so that I can tell them stories around a fire or some shit because it’s cold outside, which is why we ended an hour early, so I know for a fact that Max has an hour before she needs to be home. Which is why I’m offering to drive her around,” I finished, putting my hands on my hips and glaring down at Billy. He took another breath of smoke in before looking up at me through his long, thick lashes.

“No.”

I huffed for a bit before getting an idea. Stepping closer to the camaro, I put a hand on the hood next to Billy and leaned closer, getting way too close for comfort. I could see him squirm a bit, then solidify, trying not to back down. I looked into his ocean blue eyes.

“Billy,” I breathed, close to his face. I knew he could probably smell the camels on my breath. 

“How about you take an hour? Max will be safe with me. I would really appreciate it. Would you do that for me?” I smiled sweetly, getting just a bit closer. Billy looked away as fast as he could. 

“No,” he rephrased, but it was quieter, almost weaker this time, and he wouldn’t look back at me. 

“Billy,” I mumbled, trying to be as flirtatious as possible. “Please? Let me drive Max around? For me?” 

“FUCK.” He got up, shoving me away by my shoulders before breathing hard and glaring at me.

“Fine. Fuck. Just go away.” 

“Thanks, Billy,” I laughed at him, turning back to the kids. I could hear Billy angrily shoving his door open and slamming it closed, revving up the camaro as I walked back to Steve, smiling.

“Max can come,” I smiled, and Max grinned up at me, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you!” she said, muffled against my jacket, then ran off to the other kids.

“How the hell…” Steve trailed off, watching Billy pull out of his spot and ride off. I shrugged.

“I think I just won a fight,” I grinned, and Steve looked at me funny.

“Okay, I’m not going to ask.” He turned to the kids. “Shit, you all are not going to fit,” he groaned. I raised my hand.

“I can take some of them. You kids okay with that?” There were a few enthusiastic replies.

“Who wants to go with James?” Steve asked. Will’s and Max's hands shot up, Lucas’ hand timidly following after seeing Max’s raised. 

“Sorry, but I’m loyal to Steve,” Dustin told me seriously, and I just smiled at him.

“Right.” Steve pinched his nose. “Dustin and Mike, you’re with me.”

“Hop in, guys,” I told the three coming with me. They rushed at the wagon doors. Max was lucky enough to get the passenger’s seat, Lucas and Will popping in the back. I grabbed my bag, following them and waving off to Steve and the other two kids before opening my own door and sitting down. Once settled, I opened my bag again.

“Anyone want chocolate?” I offered the bag up. Max jumped at it, taking her pick of the candy before passing it back to the boys. Once the kids had chocolate stuffed in their mouths, I keyed the ignition and pulled out. Kids that were eating were quiet kids. That meant a peaceful drive over to the Byers. 

True to my hopes, the kids were quiet on the drive, having plenty of chocolate to fill the minutes. Once I pulled into the Byers’ driveway, Steve pulled up behind me and all the kids jumped out of the car, mouths going off again as they chattered their way into the house. Steve smiled at me as I got out.

“SO, I happened to notice a certain someone’s cigarette of choice,” he snickered at me.

“Billy had Camels. Yeah, I noticed, just have no idea what to do about it.” 

“How’d the drive go?”

“Surprisingly quiet. Chocolate helped.”

“Damn, I should’ve thought of that,” Steve mumbled as we approached the front door that the kids had left wide open.

“They are loud a lot?” I laughed.

“Might as well be a hundred middle schoolers packed into five,” Steve grumbled. I chuckled at that, closing the door behind us as we stepped inside. The kids were lounging in the room, already spread out over the ground and furniture, arguing loud as hell. 

“You got CHOCOLATE?” I heard a screech before I followed Steve into the kitchen, where we found Joyce.

“Hello, boys! I have hot chocolate ready, can you two distribute?” She motioned over to the clusterfuck of mismatched mugs on the thin table as she bent over the stove. 

“Sure.” I started grabbing mugs. They already had very hot cocoa in them. Steve grabbed three as well, and we made our way back into the room. Once distributed, everyone including Steve had cocoa, so I made my way back to the kitchen to grab my own. 

“Joyce, do you need help with anything?” I offered, grabbing my own mug. 

“Oh, no, hon, I’m good. You all get started, alright? I’ll have another round of cocoa ready for whenever the kids are done with theirs,” she smiled over her shoulder at me.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything.” I turned out of the kitchen and walked into the living room. The kids had left an armchair empty for me, clearly moved closer to the center of the room and the other furniture. When I approached, all of their heads shot up to me at various angles, unbreaking when I sat in the chair. It was well lived in and comfortable. 

“Let me drink a bit and then we’ll start, okay?” I told them and they all nodded, turning to their own cocoa mugs. I tried the cocoa; it was lovely, a rich and creamy chocolate with a dusting of cinnamon and nutmeg, accompanied by a spice that was unfamiliar to me. The kids drank the cocoa mugs out like they were beers at a college party. A short minute later and they were already turned back to me. I sighed when I noticed, content with sipping lightly at my cocoa, but leaned forward in the chair and set the mug down on the carpet before clapping my hands together.

“Alright. What would you like me to share?” 

“The demogorgon. How did you get away?” Dustin rushed to answer before anyone else. 

“Everyone wants to hear that?” I looked around.

They all nodded.

“Okay, but it’s a lot like the other story.”

Then, I began. 

I ended up telling them several stories, a break a half hour in for more cocoa. By the time the hour was up, Will had fallen asleep, and some of the others were close to it. I told Steve that I’d take Max home (as I’d told Billy I’d be driving her, and Steve didn’t have the room anyways). After all, I had plenty of time before I had to meet with Jonathan.

I couldn’t pull out of the driveway until Steve had pulled out, so Max and I were stuck in silence as we waited for Steve to corral the others into his beemer. I figured the drive would be less awkward if I tried starting a conversation.

“Billy’s your brother, right?”

“Step-brother.”

I nodded. “Okay. Do you get along fine? He seems like he’d be hard to get along with.”

Max rolled her eyes.

“That is the understatement of the year. He’s an asshole.” She turned to look out of my window and into the dark of the night. 

“Yeah, I’ve told him that,” I smiled as I watched Steve back out through my rear-view mirror.

“You’re on his basketball team, right?” Max asked. 

“Yeah. Him, Steve and myself. Match made in heaven,” I bit sarcastically, raising my eyebrows. Max laughed. 

“We go to the same church, right?” I asked Max. She shrugged, and the mood immediately flipped.

“Yeah. Neil and mom make us go. They want to look like the perfect family. Can’t remember the last time Neil actually read the bible, though. I wonder if he ever has.” Max was looking out the window again.

“Hey, I know what you mean,” I told her, “my mum and dad make me go, but it’s obvious that my dad doesn’t really believe. I know I don’t. It’s all just for show.” I flicked the headlights on and pulled out of the driveway once I was sure Steve was gone.

“I dunno if I believe. I want to,” Max admitted.

“That’s okay if you do. It’s also okay if you don’t. It makes it especially hard with hypocritical parents, right?”

Max nodded enthusiastically.

“Right? Neil is always telling us not to swear, but he swears up a shitstorm whenever Billy steps out of line. He swears up and down that Billy’s the one that is going to hell but I-” she stopped suddenly, hiding her face. “I just- he is scary sometimes. Neil. I feel bad about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I told her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Billy is such an asshole,” she suddenly hissed, melting into my hand. I patted her.

“He is.”

“But-” she stopped again. “But he doesn’t deserve Neil as a dad.”

We drove for a bit like that, my hand on her shoulder, as we made our way to the direction of where I figured her house was. I felt like I already knew way more than I should. The guilt of what Max had told me was weighing on my shoulders the way over, and I knew that Billy wouldn’t be happy if he found out about what Max had just admitted.

Max pointed for every turn we needed to take when I asked, and eventually, we were close to a house with long, dimly lit rectangular windows. When we approached, a car suddenly roared to life at the side of Cherry Road.

The camaro.

I wondered what circumstances would lead to Billy waiting further down the road for Max, but I shoved that to the back of my head, heavier thoughts on my mind. 

“You ever get too scared, you let me know, okay?” When I stopped near her house, I pulled out a pen and my chemistry notebook and tore out a piece of paper, writing my house’s phone number on it before handing it to Max.

“Listen. I know it’s hard to talk about hard family stuff, and it sucks, but if you ever need anyone, I’ll be there, okay? Even if you don’t want to talk to me, talk to Steve. He loves you guys and would do anything for you.” 

I couldn’t see Max’s face in the darkness, but I heard her sniff and saw her form nod sharply before opening the door and getting out.

“Thanks, James,” she told me quietly as she stood by it, looking at me.

“No problem. Be safe,” I earnestly tried. She nodded again.

“You’re cool,” she sniffed. “I wish you were my brother.”

I froze. I was split between “OH MY GOD SHE SAID I WAS COOL” to “fuck, but Billy’s her brother”. I wondered if she had meant what that implied, but I shrugged it off as she closed the door gently and walking to her house. I watched as she stopped on the porch, waiting for Billy, who had driven up to their driveway and was stepping out. Once Billy’s curly haired form had reached her, his shape faced towards my car. I took that as my que to leave. 

Driving back to the Byers, I was silent. I didn’t talk to myself or hum. I only thought about what Max had said, and wondered why she had said it. 

When I got to the Byers, Jonathan had gotten back from work. He was just stepping out of his car as I rolled up, parking right behind him and stepping out myself.

“Hi, Jonathan,” I waved, even though he couldn’t see me. He nodded curtly and motioned for me to follow him around the edge of the house.

Jonathan led me to the shed that looked more like an outhouse in the dark. 

“Hey, uh, there’s a party tomorrow night I was hoping to go to. If you still want to meet, that’s fine, but-” I started.

“-It’s okay, we don’t have to meet every scheduled night,” Jonathan stopped me. “I don’t think we even need to go out tonight,” he stated, before opening the door to the shed. It rattled.

“I think we should go over what we’re going to do next, and how to do it.” Jonathan flicked on the lightbulb that lit the shed brightly. I let the door close behind me as I followed him inside. 

“First-” Jonathan stood next to a carton of gasoline. “The most effective method we’ve found so far at getting rid of the demogorgons is practically exploding them. Heat hurts them the most, and though sheer force can eventually kill them, it takes way too much energy and won’t do you any good if there’s more than one.” Jonathan pointed at something in the corner of the room. “That bat was relatively effective a year ago against a single demogorgon, but is practically useless up against more than two or three.”

I looked at the bat. It clearly had dried blood and goo all over the end, almost hiding the huge nails sticking out of it.

“Gruesome,” I said, much like I would say ‘cool’. Jonathan snorted a bit, smiling.

“Thank Steve for that. He’s used it the most, even if it’s technically Nancy’s. Well, I was the one that added nails, so it’s a bit of all of us. I got it back from Steve while he was out today. He doesn’t know, so don’t tell him,” he warned. 

“Okay, I won’t.” I nodded. I wondered what the hell was going on with keeping all this stuff from Steve. It was starting to seriously concern me. 

“So, I was thinking about using a system to try catching them. Not catching them, but like, getting them to attack before killing them,” Jonathan went on. “One of us would go out and be bait, and the other could follow behind. It’d be safer that way.”

“We’d kind of both be bait that way, but that works,” I shrugged.

“Yeah. We’re going to have to find out through trial and error the distance we’ll have to be separated before they take the bait…” 

Jonathan continued, and we spent the next hour planning better techniques to catch the demogorgons or demogos by surprise. After we’d come up with a solid enough plan, it was time to go, and we said our goodbyes.

When I got home, dad was back again. I could see him and mum in the brightly lit kitchen from my car. I sat in the wagon for a bit, reluctant to see them after a long day. I took a few minutes to gather myself and get out of the car with my bag. 

Stepping into the light of the doorway and through the threshold of the house, I took my shoes off and set my bag down like I routinely did, then walked into the kitchen.

“Hi, mum, dad,” I nodded at them. They looked up from the table; they’d been playing cards. Mum was missing her usual cup of tea.

“Te Ta. How was school?” Mum awkwardly asked.

“Fine. Basketball practice went well,” I told her. 

“What? You’re doing basketball?” 

“Mum, Mrs. Hargrove literally talked to me about it in church in front of you last Sunday.” I opened the fridge.

“I don’t like your tone, Tangaroa. Drop it.” Dad coldy turned back to his cards.

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t look at them.

“There anything left from dinner?” I tried. 

“There’s always cereal and toast,” mum unhelpfully offered. I bit my tongue hard enough to tear up. 

“Okay.” I didn’t grab anything to eat, only opening the tea cupboard and grabbing some plain black tea. Mum stopped me.

“We’re going to bed soon, so don’t put the kettle on.” 

I looked at the ceiling, trying not to scream at them.

“Okay,” I said again, turning back to the fridge and pulling out an apple. 

Dad stood.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had a long day,” he grumbled, and mum nodded, standing and kissing his cheek before watching him leave through the door. 

“Mum, have you-” I stopped, trying to find the words once I was sure dad was out of earshot. “Mum. Do you think dad was out of the ordinary yesterday?” I asked, trying to get at what mum knew.

“No, he was just having his usual hard day,” she told me, and I almost trusted her words until I looked straight at her. She was staring me down, almost challenging me to fuck up.

“Are you sure? He seemed especially out of it.”

“He was just tired from a rough day at work, Te Ta,” she said flatly. 

“I think he was acting odd.”

“He wasn’t. You’re imagining things,” she suddenly spat. I looked at her. One of her hands was shaking slightly. 

“Fine,” I nodded, biting into my apple. 

Mum suddenly spun and followed dad out of the kitchen. I sighed and turned to the sink, thinking about what was hidden underneath it. 

“Hmmmm.”

I turned and looked past the doorway, making sure both mum and dad were gone. I heard mum murmuring something from their room.

This was my chance.

I opened the cupboard slowly, making sure it didn’t creak. There sat the Hennessey. I looked around again from my squat on the floor. Mum and dad were still in their room, as far as I could tell. Quickly, I opened the bottle, dumping the contents in the sink and putting the bottle back, tucking it behind the pipes. 

I felt the guilt immediately. It felt selfish, taking away dad’s one stress escape. He didn’t even drink that much to begin with. I wondered if it was really as big of a deal as I made it in my mind. I thought of my mum’s words; ‘you’re imagining it’. She said that a lot. 

What if I WAS imagining it?

No, I couldn’t afford to think like that. I didn’t have the time to deal with being sent to a psychiatric hospital. Even so, dad rarely drank, and when he was drunk, it rarely affected me physically like it had the night before. It wasn’t like it was intentional. At least, I didn’t think it was intentional. Usually.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, dropping the rest of the uneaten apple in the trash before heading to bed.

I couldn’t afford to think like that.


	14. I'm Really Bad At Shutting Up

I made steak for dinner before the party.

Mum complained about how expensive it was, but eventually sucked it up when I made her steak exactly as she liked it; well-done (much to my chagrin. A real steak should never be cooked more than medium rare). Dad and I ate our much more tasteful rare steaks fast, leading to a short dinner.

As the day wore on, I missed the nearly full Hennessey bottle more and more. I hated showing up to parties empty handed. After cleaning up dinner and washing the dishes, I went through the pantry and fridge in hopes of catching more alcohol. Of course, dad would probably have noticed if I took any, but he was still hiding it from my mom and knew better than to bring it up if some did go missing (thought I hadn’t stolen any before). Sadly, my expedition to the pantry left me empty-handed in regards to alcohol. I took a moment to brainstorm a bit. I had no idea how many people would be there, and if there were a lot, should I bring horderves? 

I decided on an upside-down cake. I figured I wouldn’t be the only one to bring those if people were bringing snacks, but then it’d go by inconspicuously. In the fridge, I found cherries and pineapple. Mum must’ve bought that; I hated pineapple. As an afterthought, I grabbed a jar of bourbon cherries from the pantry as well, deciding to put the fresh ones back in the fridge. I liked fresh cherries and there was no way in hell I was going to waste them on a pineapple upside-down cake. 

When I showed up at the address on the invitation with the cake already upside-down right at 10:00, I rang the doorbell, because it looked like there weren’t too many people there yet. The house was pretty huge. I liked the doors especially; they had colourful designs in the glass. Tina answered the door with a surprised look and ushered me in, bringing me to a wood island counter in their kitchen. Carol and Vicki were lounging in stools by the counter, but Tommy wasn’t there yet. I noticed they were all wearing variations of pink and red. Carol looked up when I walked over.

“Hey, James! Early for a party,” she smiled, and Vicky turned to watch Tina and I approach. I set the cake down on the counter and shrugged.

“I like to be punctual.” I noticed Vicki eyeing the cake. I pushed it over, sitting in another stool. “Go ahead, long as you don’t have any allergies,” I told her. Tina opened a drawer from the other side of the island and pulled out a knife, paper plates and forks. 

“Nice of you to bring cake, James,” she smiled at me. Vicki touched the side of the cake and took the knife from Tina.

“Oh, shit, it’s still warm. Did you bake this from scratch?” Vicki asked, cutting into it. 

“Yeah.”

“That’s really cool, James,” Tina handed Vicki a plate when Vicki had cut a square out.

“God, I’m glad I’m not drunk yet and can still taste,” Vicky grinned into a forkful of the cake. I noticed the half-drunk vodka on the island next to her.

“We should probably eat a lot of it before anyone else gets here, so that it’s really appreciated,” Carol grinned evilly down at the pineapple circles. 

Each of the girls grabbed their own slices of the cake before settling down again onto the stools. I didn’t grab any. Tina noticed, looking over.

“Eat too much of the dough?” she joked at me. 

“Naw, I just don’t like pineapple,” I admitted. All three of the girl’s mouths dropped.

“What?” Carol exclaimed, eyes dangerous. “How could you?” 

I just shrugged in response.

“Mind if I cut into the vodka?” I asked Tina. 

“Go ahead. Syrups and bitters are still in the pantry, if you want them. I’ll get the cups out.” Tina jumped up and headed back over the island to open the drawer where she’d retrieved the paper plates, pulling out two large stacks of red solo cups. 

“Sweet.” I grabbed one from her when she bent one of the stacks my way. I nodded over to what I assumed was the pantry. “Is that the pantry?” I got up out of my seat.

“Yep. They’ll be to your left and up,” she elaborated. I walked over and opened the door to the pantry, flicking on the light switch. It was hardly a pantry; the whole of it was the size of my kitchen, and not only did many levels of shelves litter the walls, there were stands in the center of the pantry with wine bottles and cheeses.

“Rich people,” I mumbled to myself quietly as I looked to the left and up as Tina had instructed. There sat the syrups and bitters. For a moment, I thought about picking out some right then and there, but decided against it and grabbed the whole lot of them from off the shelf and carried them out to the island counter. 

“Got ice?” I asked Tina. She nodded and walked over to her fridge, opening the freezer and pulling out an ice tray. I could see several sheets of ice from where I stood; Tina must’ve been a good planner. 

“Here.” She handed me the tray. I took it from her, looking at the ice shapes. They were hearts.

“Thanks.” I popped out three of them, dropping them in the red cup before turning to the bitters. Tina turned back to the fridge, grabbing a plate of cut fruit out and placing it in front of me.

“Perfect,” I smiled at her, grabbing strawberry slices and dropping them in. Tina turned back to the cupboards as I worked, pouring in some of the vodka before splashing in orange bitters and raspberry syrup. 

“I’ll give you a glass to put it in, but you’ve got to wash it,” she told me, pulling something out of the cupboard. “I don’t want people breaking my parent’s shit tonight.”

“Thanks.” I covered the solo cup with my hand, my hand easily sealing off the top of it, and shook it away from myself before wiping my hand on my jeans and looking into it. Tina set down a whisky glass next to me, and I let some grenadine settle in it before pouring the shaken drink into the glass over new ice and putting a slice of strawberry on the rim. I looked up at the girls. They were all watching me intensely, and I took a sip while looking back at them, then smiled and gave them the thumbs up.

“It’s good,” I told them, and Tina smiled back.

“Why was that kind of hot?” Vicki mumbled. Carol looked at her, eyebrows high. I laughed. 

“She’s not wrong. You make drinks often?” Tina took a bite of something off of the fruit plate. 

“I used to do it a lot at parties in New Zealand and sometimes while working in a restaurant, yeah, but I haven’t for a while.” I took a long drink of the chilled vodka. “I like to just put things together instead of following a certain recipe, though, which is why I’ve never worked as a bartender.”

“Okay, that is kind of hot,” Carol admitted. I smiled into my glass, embarrassed, not looking at her.

“And you baked this cake? From scratch?”

I nodded at her. 

“Damn. Tell Tommy I’m dropping his ass,” Carol laughed, and Vicki snickered, taking another bite of the cake.

The doorbell rang, jarring me out of my thoughts, as Tina muttered “speak of the devil” and walked to the door. There, through the glass, was Tommy and a few other basketball guys. Tina opened the door and let them in. The house’s noise level immediately rose. Tommy was holding two more bottles of vodka, and several of the guys had packs of stubbies, which they walked over to the island and set down in front of us. Tommy grossly kissed Carol on the lips and said something very dirty that everyone could hear before shoving her off of her stool and sitting on it himself, then putting Carol in his lap by her hips.

“Hello, ladies,” he tried to say smoothly. It came out as creepy. Carol giggled at him, but Tina just raised her eyebrows and looked away, Vicki still digging into her cake and ignoring him. Tommy spotted Vicki, eyed the cake, and looked at Tina.

“Who brought cake?” His hand drifted down Carol’s thigh. I sucked in an awkward break and raised my hand.

“It any good?” He asked Carol, ignoring me, and brushing some crumbs of it off of her face. She nodded.

“Sure is. James can really cook,” she told him, leaning into the counter to grab the rest of her cake and offering Tommy a forkful. Tommy took it apprehensively, making a face before straightening it and looking at me.

“Yeah, that’s pretty good,” he admitted, before taking the cake from Carol and stuffing more of it in his face. Jesus, he ate like Steve. Cake falling from his mouth, he spotted Vicki eating her own cake, and, with his mouth full, decided to be an asshole.

“Fuck, Vicki, you’re such a pig. How much have you eaten already?” he glared at her. Vicki just looked down at her plate, setting her fork down and chewing a lot slower. 

“Not cool, you hypocritical fuck. Take a fucking chill pill,” I growled at him. “Vicki, you don’t look or eat like a pig, Tommy’s just a huge cunt.” I grabbed the vodka again. “Can I make you a drink?” I pointedly ignored Tommy’s stare as I moved off of my seat to assemble something sweeter for Vicki. She smiled at me, not saying anything, only nodding when I asked if she wanted pineapple in it.

I washed my glass, noticing it was the only real glass that was out of it’s cupboard and wanting to make a nice looking drink for her. Carol, Tommy and Vicki watched as I made it, Tina having moved off to deal with the newer guests and their contributions to the party. 

“Tina, can I use some stuff from your fridge?” I called to her, and she nodded over at me before getting distracted again. Rummaging around for a bit in it, I found what I was looking for. Thank god Tina had mint leaves. Once again, I used a red solo cup to mix the drink before pouring it over more heart-shaped ice from the tray that I’d dropped into the freshly cleaned glass. I mixed her a strawberry pineapple vodka limeade, layering a bit of strawberry syrup at the bottom to give it layered colors before handing it over the counter to Vicki. When I looked up from the drink, I noticed there were a few more people around the island, watching as Vicki took a sip.

“Fuck, if you asked me to marry you right now I fucking would,” she stated, grinning wide as she took a much longer drink from it. I laughed, smiling as I started making myself another drink.

“Damn, Slade, you can mix shit?” One of the basketball guys spoke up. I looked over; it was Simmons. I shrugged at him.

“I’m not exactly bad at it.” I continued making myself something with orange bitters, this time putting it in a solo cup when done mixing it. 

Suddenly, someone put a tight arm around my hips, pushing me against them.

“Make me something, doll?” Billy snickered into my ear. I could smell the beer already staining his breath.

“Holy fuck. Eat my goddamn shorts, Hargrove,” I growled at him, shoving him off of me. 

“Pleeaaasse?” he whined. I glared at him.

“Absolutely fucking not. Make something yourself, asshole.” I turned back to my drink, only for Billy to grab it out of my hands and downing the entire contents in one go. I gaped at him.

“Cummon, doll, you cannn make yoursssself another,” he slurred when he saw my face. His eyes were blank and couldn’t settle on one thing.

“Pregame too hard, huh, Billy?” I muttered, taking the empty cup from him before getting a good look at him. He was leaning a bit to one side, relying on the island for balance, shirt as open as it could be without flying off of his body. His cheeks were drunkenly red, and I watched his earring dangle to the side as he staggered a bit, his St. Christopher medal shifted down to his left side and glinting through the red button-up. I sighed, setting the empty cup down before turning back to the vodka. Somehow, it was almost empty already, and I opened one of Tommy’s. The basketball team guys were watching me like hawks now. I observed Billy; judging by his stance, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell if I made him something without alcohol at that point, so that’s exactly what I did, finding some ginger ale to make up for the lack of vodka in the drink I mixed. Once adequately shaken with aromatic bitters and some oranges from the fruit plate (Billy had stopped me when I reached for syrups, mumbling something about how he wasn’t going to “drink any of that girly shit”), I shoved the cup in his direction.

“Drink it sitting down, will you? You look like you’re going to pass out,” I mumbled, frustrated. Billy nodded shakily and grabbed the cup, limping off to what I assumed was the living room. I turned to the rest of the guys.

“Alright, show’s over. I’m not making anyone drinks, so either serve yourself or get the hell out of here,” I grumbled, beginning on a new drink for myself. The guys started shuffling around, either heading in the direction Tina had led some of the others or moving around the island and joining me with mixing the vodka. 

The doors to Tina’s house had been left open, and as I watched through the next hour, people of different assortments came through and headed straight to the backyard where the beer had been placed. The upside-down cake was gone three minutes after the basketball team arrived. About half an hour in, someone carried a beer keg through the house, and that was the basketball guys’ and Tommy’s que to leave to where most of the others were. Carol and Vicki stayed inside for a while longer, getting drunker and drunker as they laughed and made each other drinks. Once in a while, Tina would rush in, grabbing something like more solo cups or napkins and rushing back out to the backyard. Steve showed up an hour and a half in, holding two large bottles of Daniel’s and walking over to me. By that point, there were several chatty groups standing around in Tina’s foyer as music was blasting from the living room. 

“How’s it hanging?” Steve asked me loudly over the music, setting the bottles on the island. He seemed really nervous for some reason.

“Not tispy yet, surprisingly,” I told him.

“How much have you had?”

“Like five cocktails.”

“Damn. Really not even a little drunk?”

I shook my head at Steve. “Nope. I have a high tolerance.” A tolerance I definitely hadn’t gotten from my dad.

Steve looked at the nearly empty fruit platter. 

“Have they made spiked punch yet?” He gestured to the empty bottles of vodka. I shook my head.

“Don’t think so.”

“There might just be enough fruit left. Help me take it out back?”

“Sure,” I grabbed the fruit as Steve grabbed one of his Daniel’s and some punch from out of the fridge. “Think we’ll need a bowel or something?”

“Yeah, can you look in the cupboards?” Steve held up his full hands and I nodded, briefly scrounging around for something with one arm as I balanced the fruit on the other before getting a hold of a massive salad bowl.

“This work?”

“Yep.” Steve and I started walking through Tina’s house and into the backyard. As we walked through, I saw Billy nursing a beer on Tina’s couch, three empty stubbie cans littered around him (including the solo cup I’d given him) and surrounded by girls. I tried to ignore him as I followed Steve out. Once we’d left the warm house and walked into the frigid yard, Steve told me to set the bowel on an unoccupied white plastic lawn chair and dump the remaining fruit inside. He then poured a full bottle of Daniel’s and the punch into it. 

“That looks positively dangerous,” I told Steve, eyeing the bowel as nearly immediately some basketball guys started to scoop the shit up in the red cups. Steve shrugged. 

“I think that’s the point.”

I snorted and looked over the small crowd. Almost everyone seemed to be wearing red, white or pink.

“I’m guessing the party is valentine themed and no one told me?” I asked Steve, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Probably should have mentioned that Tina usually does all of the themed holiday parties. She did July 4th, Halloween, Christmas Eve, and New Years last year, though in the past I’ve usually hosted Christmas,” Steve tapped his foot. I wondered if I wanted to know why that’d changed.

“Hey, want me to make you a drink? I’m not bad at it,” I offered, and Steve shrugged.

“Sure.” 

We headed back inside. Once we got to the island, Steve noticed the empty sheet pan from my cake.

“There was cake?” He sounded sad that he’d missed it.

“Yeah, I made upside-down pineapple cake. I was told it was pretty good.”

Steve started laughing after a brief moment of shock.

“Upside-down cake?” he looked at me expectantly. My brows furrowed, confused.

“What?”

“UP-side-DOWN cake,” Steve emphasised. I just looked at him. He sighed, frustrated.

“Like the upside-down?” he said, quieter, looking over at Carol and Vicki who were drunkenly (and loudly) talking about past relationships. Did Vicki say something about Billy? I could barely hear them over Madonna.

“What am I missing here?” I asked him, grabbing an empty solo cup and starting to mix him something. 

“I don’t think I could be more obvious,” Steve grumbled. 

“Please, explain,” I gestured for him to sit at a stool. He glowered and sat. 

“Like, the Nether? I think that’s what it’s called.”

“Does this have to do with the alternate dimension bullshit?” I raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes, we call the alternate dimension the upside-down,” he drawled, and it clicked.

“Oh. OH.” I set the cup down. “I get it!” I smiled excitedly. Steve sighed. Finishing the drink, I set it down in front of him. He looked into it apprehensively.

“What is in it?” He asked, not looking anywhere but the cup. I didn’t have a chance to answer as someone violently grabbed Steve’s shoulder.

“What do we have here?” It was Tommy, back from outside. 

“Fuck,” I muttered, looking over at a wasted Carol. She wasn’t going to be able to help me out here. Tommy wasn’t doing too well either; his face was red and he was clearly using Steve to stable himself.

“Get off,” Steve sharply knocked Tommy over with his elbow, just like he’d do on the court. Tommy toppled over onto his ass.

“You little shit,” he growled, getting up and in Steve’s face. I walked around the island to get in between the two of them, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder and yanking him away from Steve. Steve didn’t move, simply swirling the contents of his cup around as he looked at nothing, clearly the only sober one of the two.

“How about you take a walk?” I looked down at Tommy sternly. He ripped himself out of my grip, taking a step back.

“How about you fucking back off?” Tommy griped, stepping forward again. 

“Nuh uh.” I grabbed him again, shoving him backwards and into the living room. Billy looked up from the couch as we entered, and I shoved Tommy slightly in his direction. “Fuck off and leave Steve alone, okay?”

Apparently that wasn’t okay, and it didn’t help that Steve had gotten up and followed me into the living room, concerned. Tommy leered at Steve from over my shoulder.

“Can’t fight your own battles, huh, Stevie? Oh, right, you lost to the Byers freak,” Tommy laughed obnoxiously.

“Don’t call him a freak,” Steve bit over my shoulder.

“Why not? He fucking is one. Stole your girlfriend, too, why aren’t you mad about that?” Tommy hissed. “Or do you let him fuck you too like a little bitchy queer? Huh?” 

I shoved Tommy into the ground after that. 

“Fuck off, you piece of shit. You’re drunk.” I turned to Steve. “And you’re not drunk, so how about you go back to the kitchen and drink tha-” I was interrupted when Tommy jumped me from behind and sucker punched me. 

“You GODDAMN-” suddenly Steve was on top of Tommy. I didn’t even get the chance to lay Tommy flat myself, the two of them were tangled and close enough to be having intercourse as they threw punches and kicked each other on the floor. I watched from above, wondering whether or not I should stop them. Steve was making most of the hits. I looked over at Billy; he was just watching, sipping at a beer from the couch as some of the girls got closer. 

“TOMMY AND STEVE ARE FIGHTING-” one of them ran into the backyard, screeching to get everyone’s attention. Many pairs of eyes peered through the open back door at the living room, and I knew it was time to stop the fight before someone got in trouble.

“That’s enough. Steve, get off of him.” When he didn’t, I grabbed his stupid jacked and lifted him up and off of Tommy. Tommy was revealed with a bloody nose and a split lip that was quickly swelling. I looked at Steve; he seemed perfectly fine, just furious. 

I sighed.

“Dammit, Steve, get your damn drink.” 

Steve shuffled off, the fire in his eyes dimming as I turned him in the direction of the kitchen. I left Tommy on the floor to follow Steve. When we got back to the island, instead of sitting down, Steve chugged the whole drink and stopped.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he mumbled, before turning to the door.

“No, you should’ve, Tommy was just a dick,” I told him. Steve shrugged.

“Whatever. I should probably leave, I’m driving home.” And at that, Steve walked out of the door. I looked over at Carol and Vicki, who were snickering at something Carol had said, before I grabbed a cup, filled it with tap water, and made my way back into the living room. Tommy was off of the floor and walking out the door when I got back. I let him, watching his back as he stepped out into the night. I turned to Billy, who was now mostly alone with his beer, only a few stragglers left in the room. 

“Fuck it.”

Groaning, I made my way over to Billy, settling down on the couch next to him. We sat there for half an hour in relative silence. I didn’t bother drinking my water. Neither of us spoke as we watched people come and go, people beginning to trash things or start to leave. An hour later and it was clear that everyone still at Tina’s was drunk or otherwise impaired. When Tina finally left from the backyard, I waved her down.

“Clean up going to be okay?” I asked, wondering if I should stick around. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just clean everything up tomorrow.” Tina eyed the grandfather clock in the hallway. It had passed midnight a long time ago. “People will still be hanging around for another hour, and by that point, no one is going to want to clean, which is the usual.”

I nodded and looked at Billy, who looked about ready to fall asleep into his beer.

“Hey,” Tina finally looked me in the eyes. “What you said to Vicki was really nice. She’d never admit it, but she really appreciates that stuff,” she told me, suddenly very transparent. 

“Oh. Okay. It was no problem,” I shuffled awkwardly on the couch. Tina smiled at me. I noticed her red eyeshadow and black eyeliner; it made her brown eyes really pretty. They reminded me of Steve’s brown eyes.

“I feel like a lot of guys don’t get that it’s hot when you do stuff like that, you know? Guys like Hagan or Hargrove-” she nodded at Billy, “seem to think that being all cold is the way to go, and it’s just not, you know?”

I nodded, looking at Billy.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

Tina sidestepped a bit.

“Just out of curiosity, would you ever consider going on a date?” She suddenly asked me, looking away.

“Oh.” I froze. “Uh, um…”

“Just, like, I know we don’t know each other that well, but you’re kind of cute, and obviously nicer than half the guys on the basketball team-”

“-No, it’s fine,” I stopped her. “I think you’re cute too. I just, I’m just not looking for anything like that right now, you know?” I told her honestly. It was true; I didn’t want to be dating in a new country my first month into school.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense...” Tina trailed off.

“I think you’re nice, too, but, uh, I don’t think I’m ready for anything like that yet.”

Tina nodded to herself.

“Alright. Thanks for being honest with me,” she smiled. I smiled back.

“Hey, talk to me again in a few months, okay? I might be up to it then,” I offered, and she grinned.

“I might take you up on that,” she laughed, then folded her arms. “Hey, look-” she gestured to Billy, “I have a feeling Billy’s too drunk to drive himself home.”

“You think?” I rolled my eyes, snorting. 

“Yeah. I really don’t want him spending the night, and as much as I think he’s a bitch, someone needs to take him home,” she grumbled, but a smile was on her lips.

“I’ll take care of it,” I told her. “Might take me awhile to get him up, though.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” she played with her hair. “Well, I’m off. I’ve got other people to harass into leaving in the next hour.”

“See you later,” I waved her off as she left, then turned to Billy. He was looking up at me with big, blue eyes.

“James?” Billy mumbled, like he just recognized me. 

“You’re hella drunk, Billy. How soon do you think you can stand?” I questioned.

“James is friends with Harrington,” Billy went on, forgetting I existed. 

“Well, shit.” I leaned back into the soft couch. This might take a while. Billy fell with the sag in the couch, head falling close to mine. He didn’t bother getting back up.

“Harrington is coolllll. Like sand.”

“Sand is hot,” I pointed out, and Billy glared blankly at me.

“Noooooo, sssand in the winterr. Like the wind.” He gestured vaguely into the air, chin falling into his neck and giving him a double chin.

“You think Steve is cool?” I was a little surprised, but I didn’t show it. It didn’t matter, because Billy was still talking.

“His hair looks sso sssoft. Like a clouuud.”

“You want to touch his hair,” I stated, staring at him. That went ignored, too.

“Steve is cool. I thought I was cool, too.”

I was very glad that no one else was in the room anymore to hear this.

“Why did you think you were cool?” I tried. 

“I was mean, not cool. I wanted to be frieeenndssss.” Billy huffed and sank lower into the couch.

“So, you thought you were being friendly with Steve but were really being a dick, and Steve took it wrong?” I explained to myself, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense. I thought you hated Steve?”

Somehow, Billy heard that.

“No. I do not hate Steve,” he whined like a little kid. “Steve is cool. I want to be friends with Steve. But I can’t”. He huffed again.

“And why is that?” I sighed. God, Tina had put me on babysitting duty.

“I’m an asshole,” Billy poked a finger into his own chest, hard. His eyes were wide as he started into space and pouted.

“So you admit it, you think you’re an asshole.”

“I REEEAAALLLY don’t hate Steve. I like Steve.”

“Why do you both insist on fighting with each other if you BOTH say you don’t have problems with each other?” I was exasperated.

“Steve is cool,” Billy repeated.

“Okay, Billy, be honest with me. Have you ingested anything besides alcohol tonight?”

“Steve was dating bitch Wheeler…” Billy trailed off, quieter, his dark lashes starting to droop.

“How much alcohol have you had?”

“Steve was mean,” Billy pouted, “because bitch Wheeler was cheating on him with freak Byers.” His head rolled to the side and almost into me. 

“That’s it.” I shook him. “No falling asleep, I need you to be able to get into a car,” I jabbed his side. Billy grumbled something incoherently in return. 

“We’re getting up now,” I decided, grabbing Billy’s arm and forcing him to sit up straighter. “Up on three. One, two, THREE-” I hoisted him onto his feet. Billy wavered there, looking surprised. 

“TaKEs mE To PARadiSE, dO YOu lovE ME mARy JAne-” Billy started to sing, a smile cracking his face.

“Oh my god, Rick James? Fucking really?” I hissed at him as I held up practically all of his weight. I liked Rick James, Billy just sucked at singing while drunk.

“DOOOOO yaaaaaaaaaaaa-” Billy was singing it completely out of tune and out of order, stopping at odd moments to laugh. “I’M In loVe WIth mARy JAaaaaANe!”

“You smoked weed, didn’t you.” I looked into Billy’s eyes. “Fuck, you did. Alright, I’m taking you to your car.” I felt around in his jeans for a bit, looking for keys to his camaro. “No wonder he’s so chatty,” I mumbled to myself when I found them.

As I led Billy out of the house (more carrying than leading), I passed an amused Tina. I flipped her off as I walked by, and she just laughed at me, telling me that Billy had parked a block away to the left of her house.

“You’re kidding,” I whined, and lifted Billy so that he was more like a sack of potatoes on my shoulder, unwilling to fully commit to carrying him upside down to prevent him from puking. As I walked out the door, I looked at my car sadly, knowing I was going to have to leave it behind. 

“You are going to owe me. Big time.”

Billy just murmured something against my shoulder, muffled. I side-eyed him; he was practically asleep. At least, he was asleep until his head knocked the door frame on the way out.

“Whuuu-” he looked around, curls bouncing. “No, leave me here-”

“-Absolutely fucking not. I’m taking you home.” And with those words, he was out again.

I grumbled all the way to his car. Lucky for me, he hadn't parked illegally, and it wasn’t in too conspicuous of a fashion that made me embarrassed to unlock it, throw Billy in the passenger's seat, and hop into the driver's seat myself. I looked over at him, I watched his face soften with sleep as I buckled him in. As lovely as he was right then, I knew that if he found out I’d driven his car, he’d square up immediately. With that thought, I shoved his beer-breath face away from me and towards the window as I keyed the ignition. 

I vaguely remembered where I’d dropped Max off, the long windows and the name Cherry Road the most recognizable features of the Hargrove home. It wasn’t too hard to find once I figured out which direction to take. When I pulled into their driveway, Billy’s camaro was the only car in sight. I figured that was the best for Billy.

Dragging Billy’s dead weight out of the car, I made sure to lock it behind me, fiddling with the keys as I approached the front door with Billy over my left shoulder. I didn’t bother knocking and just unlocked it myself, letting us in. I made sure not to let Billy’s head knock into the door frame this time. Stepping inside, I was met with silence and darkness, only a bit of light filtering through an open door straight ahead. It looked like that was the kitchen. I started making my way in that direction, assuming that Billy and I were alone, when something very hard and very heavy hit me behind the knees.

“SHIT-” I dropped Billy, kneeling as I lost my balance. Something small stood over me, backlit by the light in the kitchen.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” A small, cold voice came from above.

“M-Max?” I squinted up at the shape.

“James? Is that you? Shit,” the figure dropped whatever it was holding, then ran over to the door and flicked something on. The lights came on shortly after. 

“Yeah, shit is right. Did you not hear the camaro drive up?” I asked as I stood, trying not to sound mean.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see who came out, I just knew it wasn’t Billy from the windows,” Max came back around, kicking at Billy’s form on the ground. “You’re both lucky Neil or mom isn’t home.”

“I figured. If there was another car here, I would’ve left Billy in the camaro when I drove up.”

“Is he drunk?” Max kicked at Billy again, but I could see something like worry behind her eyes.

“Yeah. He’ll be fine.” I stood up slowly. “I’ll carry him to his room, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show you where it is,” Max scampered off as I heaped Billy back onto my shoulder. 

“I am so glad you don’t have stairs,” I told the unconscious boy before following Max. She directed me to a doorway just a bit down a hallway, the light already turned on. She pointed to the bed.

“You can just drop him there.”

“Sounds good to me.” I walked in, looking around as I approached the bed. I liked his room; it was a bit like mine, but more minimalistic.I eyed his stereo system and cassettes, then his book shelf full of everything but books. “You have an atari? You dork,” I chuckled as I plopped him down onto his bed. I took the camaro keys out of my pocket and stuffed them somewhere in his jeans. “Motley Crue, Metallica, Tank…” I murmured, taking another look as I walked out.

“Thanks, James,” Max told me as I exited. 

“No problem.” I ruffled her hair, smiling as I started walking to the door. “See you later!” I called back to her, opening the odd door and leaving quickly. 

The air was fucking cold, and now I had to walk all the way back to Tina’s to get my car.

I groaned into the night.

“Hey, at least it’s not close to the Byers place, right?” I tried to convince myself, but even I knew that proximity probably didn’t matter to the demogorgons or demogogs or whatever, because they’d been at Steve’s place, too, and Steve’s place was closer to Tina’s, which was on the richer side of town. 

And very fucking far from where I was.

I began trudging my way down Cherry Road, feeling like I was doing the walk of shame. There weren’t any cars, and the roads were dark; I had to walk on the road to keep sight of it. Usually, I had pretty good night vision, but I guessed that it was slightly impaired from the alcohol. 

Sticking my hands in my jeans, I warily looked around as I walked, knowing full well that I couldn’t see anything if it was right in front of me. The air smelled cold, like it was empty, and almost stale. The closest thing I could connect it to was the taste of tap water. I couldn’t wait for the fresh scent of the first rain to fill the night when spring came; the smell of the soil turning over, and the sense of electrical movement through the clouds. Eventually, it got cold enough and I got tired enough that I stopped looking around as often, not watching where I was going as much. It was going to take over half an hour to walk back to Tina’s, and there was no way I was going to spend the whole trip nervous. 

Once I’d made it past the quarry and the unnamed road, a couple cars passed me, headlights physically moving me off of the road and into the brush before they hit me. I don’t think any of them saw me. One was a truck, it’s exhaust choking me for several minutes before I walked back onto the road. Another was a sedan with wood panels. After a few more passed, I started to be able to catch better features of the road visually as the headlights kept me on my toes. It was a wonder I didn’t recognize Steve’s beemer when it passed. 

The sound of a car pulling onto gravel and a door opening behind me startled me, and I walked faster, hoping they hadn’t seen me. 

“James? That you?” A voice called into the night. I spun around.

“Steve? I thought you went home?”

“Went for a drive.” I saw Steve bend out of his car as a silhouette in front of the headlight beams and wondered why he’d been driving around for several hours. “What’re you doing all the way out here? Where’s your car?”

“Had to drive someone home in their car because they were drunk. I’m walking back to Tina’s to grab mine,” I explained, and Steve walked a bit closer.

“All the way to Tina’s? Need a lift there?”

“It’s alright-”

“-No, really. Hop in.” Steve stood there, and I couldn’t see his face behind the glare.

“Ok,” I walked across the road to his side. As I got closer, more and more of Steve became more defined. I noticed his hair was messier than usual.

Once I was close enough that Steve was satisfied, he dropped back into his seat. I walked to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door and awkwardly sitting myself down as well. Steve didn’t close his door until I was seated. 

“Tina’s?” He confirmed.

“Yeah, thanks,” I put my seatbelt on. I noticed Steve didn’t bother, but I didn’t say anything. Steve reversed the car, turning it out onto the road in the direction opposite of where he came. I sunk in my seat. There was an odd vibe in the car, like I was in trouble or something. I looked out the window at trees rushing past, illuminated by the headlights.

“So, have you been seeing Jonathan a lot lately?” Steve suddenly asked. I sat up straight.

“Uh, what? Yeah, well, kind of, I mean, we’ve been hanging out a little.” I knew I was scrambling. Steve was tapping his fingers against the wheel nervously. 

“That’s fine. I just- has he been acting weird lately?”

“I don’t think I know him well enough to judge that, but I’d say he’s not normal,” I looked at him.

“That’s not what- nevermind. Would-” he turned to look at me. “Would you tell me if you knew if Jonathan was out doing dumb shit at night? Like going out looking for demogorgons?”

I sat silently for a few moments, trying to come up with the right thing to tell Steve.

I WANTED to tell Steve, but Wheeler and Jonathan had made it clear not to, and they knew Steve better.

But was it right to keep it from Steve?

“I’d want to tell you,” I said honestly, but not really answering. Steve let out a long breath.

“Okay.” He left it at that.

Oh, shit. Steve must have noticed that the bat was missing, and knew exactly where it had ended up.

If it was possible, Steve looked even more nervous than before, his left knee coming up to hit the dash sporadically. He pushed his hair back with his right hand. 

“Steve, you look…. nervous,” I tentatively spoke. Steve’s head fell back into his seat, losing some tension.

“Yeah, that’s probably because I’ve convinced myself that interdimensional monsters are coming back and that my best friends are out trying to get themselves killed.” Steve snapped at me. I looked away, embarrassed.

“Look. If I knew something was going on with Jonathan and Wheeler, the only reason I wouldn’t tell you would be because Jonathan asked me not to, okay?” My breath fogged up the window a bit as I leaned into its cold surface.

“I wasn’t talking about Wheeler.”

“Okay, so you think Jonathan and I are out ‘trying to get ourselves killed’.” I side-eyed him. One of his hands was in his hair again, messing it up. He was looking at me.

“Eyes on the road,” I pointed at the dash, and Steve gave me a look before complying. 

The car was quiet for a few moments before I decided to speak again.

“Steve, why would Jonathan ask me not to tell you that we were going out to kill demogorgons?” I asked quietly, cheek rising from off the glass. Steve swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“I’m changing the subject,” Steve announced. 

“Okay.”

“How do you like the kids so far?”

Oh, that was an easy one.

“They’re fun to hang around. Most of them. Mike is a little asshole,” I elaborated. Steve laughed and nodded. “Did you know he practically called me a fag?” I raised my eyebrows. Steve gasped dramatically.

“I’ll kill the little shit-”

“-I took care of it, don’t worry. I know he felt bad. It was kind of funny to see his face when I chewed him out, actually,” I chuckled. “Anyway. Max and Will seem especially cool. Dustin and Lucas seem okay, but I don’t know much about Lucas yet so the jury's still out on him. Seems fine enough. Dustin toes the line on annoying, though.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Steve nodded. I noticed his shoulders start to lose more tension and his hand drop from his hair when talking about the kids.

“I think it’s funny they like my stories. Must be the accent.”

“You’re not wrong, but you’re also not bad at storytelling,” Steve told me. “Almost had me asleep too. Your voice is really nice.”

And damn, if that wasn’t one of the greatest compliments I’d ever been given.

“Oh, thanks,” I turned back to my window, embarrassed. I knew my cheeks were red. 

“The kids might want to make you coming over to tell stories a regular thing. I’ll try to keep it from happening too often, but I think it might be a good idea. I haven’t heard any complaints from them yet, and that’s a big deal.”

“I’d love to do that,” I turned back to Steve.

“Alright, I’ll think something up.”

The car fell quiet for a bit.

The ride back to Tina’s was nice and calm, different from Steve’s nervousness from before. Steve and I talked about the kids. I noticed that Steve spoke fondly of Dustin and suspected that he had a favorite, but when confronted, Steve denied it, saying that him and Dustin just “had a better connection”. I didn’t bother telling him that that still meant Dustin was his favorite. 

As I waved Steve off and thanked him for the ride before driving back home, I thought about why Steve was so nervous. Not only that, but Steve had avoided talking about why Jonathan had asked me not to tell Steve about our trips. 

I wondered if Steve knew, for sure, about what Jonathan and I were up to.


	15. Uh-Oh

Today was our first game of the season, and when I say I wished that Billy HAD gotten into the fight with Steve and Tommy Saturday night, I mean it with fervor. 

We’d barely gotten any practice in since last Friday, and for some reason, our game was scheduled for monday night. That meant that what had happened Saturday was still fresh. 

At least there was a buffer day between the events of that night and today, right?

Nope. Whatever had happened was still painfully fresh in everyone’s minds, including my own, but it was an especially hard point for Tommy Hagan. I had been hoping, by some miracle, that Tommy had forgotten the events of that night from how inexplicably drunk he’d been, but apparently he didn’t need to be too drunk to be a dick and start fights. It was either that or some asshole had filled him in on Steve going to town on his face. Truth be told, it would've been hard to explain the damage without bringing up Steve. I guess I can’t hold whoever it was too accountable. Unfortunately, this meant Tommy had a massive stick up his ass, and the moment we all piled into the gym for the game, it was painfully obvious that Tommy was ready to beat the shit out of someone.

At least we had the mercy of a home game for our first, and we didn’t have to travel on a bus or anything together.

From what I could tell by the way Billy was acting, he didn’t remember shit from that night. Unfortunately for him, Tommy remembered that Billy hardly raised his eyes to back up Tommy in his fight with Steve, even if he had needed help jogging the initial memory. Tommy and Billy both arrived near the same time; Tommy just a minute or two earlier, the remnants of Saturday night lingering on his face. Luckily, the coach wasn’t there yet, because Hagan came in spitting with a lot more venom than usual, biting at anyone within five feet of him. He didn’t even look at Steve to begin with, too busy taking his anger out on the other teammates. The moment Billy stepped in, though, Tommy’s face turned purple. He stomped up to a stunned Billy, said something no one could catch, and then promptly got shoved by Billy. I could see a switch turn on in Billy’s mind when Tommy got in his face. It was like someone had put a lighter to a hairspray can spraying directly into Hagan’s face, the flames burning his skin off. 

The moment Billy’s face turned upside-down and Billy shoved Tommy, Tommy swung, catching Billy straight in the nose. That was it for Billy; almost immediately Tommy was on the floor, hissing at a single hit Billy had made to his own nose. Steve ran over immediately, doing his civic duty as the captain to split them apart. For once, Billy didn’t need to be told to stop twice; he was already walking away, a sour look on his face. Tommy didn’t move to follow him. When Steve realized he wasn’t needed, he backed away slowly, then returned to the court. Tommy’s nose was bleeding.

Billy walked near to where I sat on the bleachers, on our side of the court. The other team hadn’t showed, yet, but there were a few people in the stands already from Hawkins. They weren’t due for another five minutes at least. Our reserved bench forced everyone on the team to have close contact with each other, which meant that everyone needed to get along. It apparently also meant that Billy was going to sit next to me. When he approached, he threw his bag at the bench before slamming himself down next to me and glaring at everyone on the court.

“What the hell did Hagan say?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Billy’s face softened a little, but he didn’t look at me, watching a few guys do some drills on our hoop.

“Something about Saturday night. Which I don’t even remember,” He growled, frustrated. 

“Did that something have to do with Hagan getting his shit rocked by Steve?”

Billy’s eyes flickered to me before returning to the court.

“Yes.” Billy sounded very agitated, but also like he was apprehensive of something.

“How much do you remember?” Calm was not my strong suit, but I tried pushing it for him. Billy’s gaze hardened again.

“I don’t remember shit. I don’t even remember going to Tina’s damn party.” 

And that sounded like a lie if I ever heard one.

“Mkay. So you don’t remember me driving you home?” 

Billy froze.

“No. Definitely not,” he growled, turning to me. I could tell he was telling the truth then, at least. I shrugged under his gaze.

“I think you did at least alcohol and marijuana, because you were completely out. You wouldn’t stop talking about Steve and definitely didn’t recognize me.”

“You’re lying,” he snorted defensively. I shook my head.

“Unfortunately, I’m not. You’re lucky that at that point I was the only one around. You were a massive sap,” I chuckled. 

Billy abruptly and very sharply gripped my left arm, eyes digging into me. 

“You didn’t hear or see shit, you understand?”

My arm was burning, but I didn’t show it. Instead, I slowly moved my right hand down onto his, lowering his grip until it softened slightly. The pain was easy compared to calming him down.

“You don’t need to threaten me for that stuff, Billy,” I chastised. “I don’t give a damn if you want to be friends with Steve.”

Billy dropped my arm all at once.

“Friends,” he huffed sarcastically to himself, looking back at the court. I rolled my eyes when I knew he wasn’t looking. 

Someone was being more than a little touchy. I had several guesses as to why at this point, but I didn’t share them with Billy. 

I looked at the court, too, catching eyes with Steve, who was running some of the drills. He was giving Billy the evil eye, only stopping when he knew he was caught by me. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he turned back to the drills. 

“Anything else happen that I need to know about?” Billy quietly asked, turned away to our left. I could still feel the hysteria rolling off of him.

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t with you the whole time, just there for the fight and taking your ass home.”

“So you can confirm that I didn’t get involved in the fight?”

“Yeah. You didn’t do shit.”

Billy snorted again, but this time it wasn’t defensive. It was humorous.

“Tommy can go fuck himself and fight his own fights,” he confided, and I laughed.

“Yeah, he can. If he wants to get mad about it, he can deck it out with someone else.”

I caught Billy smiling a little.

“Hey, thanks for the Camels, by the way. Word delivery was shit, though,” I grinned. 

Billy tensed up.

“What Camels?”

“Oh, so we’re playing that game, huh?” This time, I rolled my eyes to his face.

Billy glared at me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Uh huh. Like anyone else would pull that ‘fucking pussy’ shit.”

“Uh, yeah, a ton of guys would call smoking filtered cigs pussy,” Billy sassed.

“I don’t remember mentioning that in the note.”

There was a pause.

“Fuck.” Billy kicked the bench we were sitting on.

“Might I also mention that most of the guys smoke Reds? Which happen to be filtered, dumbass?” 

Billy groaned a bit, leaning back and looking away again. It was kind of adorable. 

“I know you smoke reds sometimes, too, you idiot. Don’t think I didn’t pull a detective move with Steve.”

Billy’s eyes widened.

“Steve?”

“Remember friday? In the parking lot? When you fucking licked my hand like a creep? Yeah, it was clear as day you were smoking camels, even though we all know you smoke reds with the other guys sometimes,” I folded my arms. “Anyway. Don’t worry, I thought it was funny, even if one of the other guys might have laid your ass flat for it.”

“Like anyone on the team could kick my ass,” Billy rolled his eyes. I stared him down.

“I could.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Absolutely no contest, Hargrove.” I pretentiously looked down my nose at Billy. He shoved my shoulder, but it was a light shove.

“Dream on, Slade.”

It sounded harsh, but I saw the smile on his face. It made me smile, too.

A few minutes later, Ass. Coach Hawke and Coach Riley walked in and told everyone benched to get off their asses and start drilling. It was right on time, as in walked the other team, dressed in showy purple and yellow jerseys. They clashed awfully with our green and white. The team were the North Bloomington Cougars; a fine opposition to the Hawkins Tigers. 

When we lined up to get ready to play, Steve stood next to me. 

“Which would win in a fight; a cougar, or a lion?” He whispered in my ear. 

“Don’t you mean tiger instead of lion?” 

“Right. Yeah. Which would win?”

“Tiger, no contest.”

Steve nodded. 

“Alright, then we better win.” 

I nodded back, reluctantly. If Steve always said dumb shit like this before games then he would definitely kill the mood of every game.

When we started getting hyped for the game and the coaches gave us our calls, I was upset to find out that I was going out first. Back home, I usually would go out second, because for some reason, I played better that way. I really didn’t like going first. It was like going first when giving a presentation in class, or giving the first lines in a play; you set the stage when you start. I didn’t want to be responsible for setting the stage. 

Hell, and I’d just started playing.

I tried to think of it like rugby, like the coaches had put me out first because we were short or something, knowing that I didn’t like playing first and making amends to that with who they put on the court with me. At least the coach told me to play defensively. Guard was easier; there wasn’t the stress of scoring as often, and the stress of defending the goals felt less intense, somehow. Of course, that was kind of out the window with myself playing shooting guard, but I could dream.

Coach Riley put out Steve, Simmons and Tommy out with me, as well as some other guy I hadn’t talked to much. Of course, Steve was point guard. Unfortunately, Tommy was put as small forward. Tommy, whose nose was clearly injured (in comparison to Billy’s, whose nose looked like it hadn’t received a hit all day), and who was biting at everyone around him, would be playing a role based on tact, even though he couldn’t guard for shit. That meant that the coaches hadn’t recognized the mood Tommy was in, even if everyone else could see it from a mile away. Sure, Tommy was agile to some extent and could knock some pretty good shots in, but he sucked at guarding and was short as hell, not to mention slow to react. While Tommy could move fast, his mind couldn’t keep up, and he usually wasn’t this upset. Anger was going to be weighing his movements down tonight. That meant that his two good features, shooting and speed, were useless. 

I wasn’t too excited about the burn on my back, either. It hadn’t even been a week since I’d gotten it, and sure, I could take some roughhousing during practice, but games would be more intense. Luckily, my arm was mostly just scarred now. I knew, when it came down to it, my pain tolerance could carry me through the game, even if my back couldn’t. 

Those issues all came along with the fact that Steve was also on the court with Tommy. In no way could that work out with Tommy acting like an asshole, especially since our three roles would need to work together to guard a lot, as we were starting out defensively. 

I was proven correct when we got onto the court. There was no buffer in between Steve and Tommy except the game; our positions pushing us into a wing-like formation when we received the ball. Tommy kept it together for a few minutes. He didn’t antagonize anyone, too caught up in the beginning of the game to care, too distracted to see Steve’s presence as anything but a teammate. That changed in all but five minutes. 

First, it was ignoring Steve, like Billy had, when Steve called for something. Then it was swearing at the other guys on his own team. When the Cougars scored a three-pointer, that soon escalated into harassing the members of the other team, but before he could do any real damage, the ref pulled a hard-ass move and technical-fouled him. Coach Riley pulled him off the court the first chance he got. I knew Tommy was going to be livid about it for a very, very long time, but regardless of how mad he was, the look on Coach Riley’s face was worse. In Tommy’s place, Billy was put in. I wasn’t sure if that was going to turn out better or worse. The rest of that quarter went slow, painstakingly so, until we hit the second quarter. Then, something flipped.

The shift in teamwork was monumental. Somewhere, something had connected, because the guard wing was working relentlessly and damn near perfectly. I was astounded at how well Steve and Billy were working together. Within the quarter, it was I who was trying to keep up with them, their capabilities stretching much further than they had when they’d worked solo. Eventually, on a break, Coach Riley told Billy to play less defense and go aggressive, and that’s what he did. Billy scored back the three-pointer the other team had made. Billy followed Steve’s lead completely. Billy made a foul for being so aggressive. Billy scored several more hoops. Somewhere, at some point in the game, Steve even clapped Billy on the back without Billy killing him. Simmons scored something, too. I defended score attempts successfully. Steve assisted Billy on several scores, and I assisted Simmons and Billy, too. When halftime was called, Steve was really excited.

“We lost to them last year,” Steve told me as we stood over our waters, much like we did at practice. “But now we’ve got you, James, and Hargrove. God, you guys are really helping us out.”

Billy grunted from my other side into his probably spiked gatorade, but when I looked, I could tell he was trying to hide a smile. 

“Score’s pretty good right now, huh?” I looked up at the scoreboard. It read 57-42, in favor of Hawkins. 

“Yeah. A lot can change in the last half, but yeah.” Steve set his water down, grabbing instead a towel as he wiped his face. 

I turned to Billy.

“To be honest, I still don’t know exactly how basketball points work,” I whispered into his ear, and he cringed, spitting into his gatorade.

“How the FUCK can you not tell how the game you are playing is scored?” 

I shrugged. 

“I dunno. Just know how to play. Vaguely.”

“Oh my god.” Billy turned away, exasperated. I laughed at his back.

“Anyone show up that you know?” Steve asked, nodding up behind us to the stands. It was an odd thing to bring up.

“Didn’t tell anyone to come, so I doubt it.” I looked up anyways.

Oh, shit.

Near the top right corner of the bleachers sat Edward, Jess, and Ethan.

I turned back around fast, taking a long drink of my water. I hadn’t sat with them at lunch for two days now, counting last Friday and today. I didn’t remember telling them about the first game. I had no idea why they’d be here. 

“I personally don’t like if people I know come, it stresses me out,” I tried to distract myself as I told Steve. 

“Really?”

I looked at Steve from the corner of my eye as I watched the more empty court. He looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. Do you prefer if people you know come?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve trailed off, looking away. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Does Max come to your games?” I turned to Billy. He shrugged.

“Susan used to make her. I don’t really care enough to check.”

Even so, I caught him looking back. I looked back, too; Max was there, with an older man I assumed was Billy’s dad and Susan Hargrove from church. Billy seemed like he was trying really hard not to recognize that they were there, but I knew he did because of how his eyes shifted fast around the court and the way his jaw clenched when he looked away. 

He seemed… nervous.

“I, for one, think we’ll win this, yeah?” I tried changing the subject. Steve nodded enthusiastically.

Luckily, I was saved by the coaches, who called us over to go through what we’d be doing the next half.

“Aggressive is the key. No more defending unless necessary. We want to keep the ball on their half as much as possible;” Coach Riley was pointing at a miniature whiteboard on his hands with a formation on it. “That means that we’re abolishing the back wing and pushing Hargrove up. That doesn’t mean just Hargrove will move up, but Harrington and Slade, you’re going to push forward, too. We want to force the ball up.” He tapped the board. All three of us nodded, and I looked over to the other team. From what I could guess, their coaches were probably saying the same thing.

Coach Hawke spoke up.

“Usually, like we’ve talked about, when we have a lead in the first half we’d push for more defense, but we’re going to try something different today.”

“Right. Just like how we usually wouldn’t start with defense,” Coach Riley finished. “So push it as hard as you can. I can imagine you five are pretty tired already-” he looked at Billy, Steve, Simmons, and I, as well as that other guy. I think his name was Chris. “-so we’re going to juice you until you can’t bring any more. If that happens, we’ll sub you, okay?” We all nodded again. “Great. Grab one more drink of water and get out there.”

We rushed off to our water bottles as the rest of the team took to their seats again, taking in a few gulps before we were back on the court. Soon after, the Cougars joined us, and we all got into our starting positions. 

This time, the Cougars started.

It began fast; their center was practically sprinting it onto our half, then passing it to their small forward, who was right in front of me. He was new on the court. The guy was smaller and visibly intimidated by me, and when he started dribbling it around me, he started pulling odd moves to shake me and compensate for my height advantage. After about five seconds he gave up and tried passing it back to center. I intercepted, taking the ball out of the air and dribbling it forward, lining up with Billy (who was sprinting to keep up) and passing it over. He took it and followed it through, but then ran into intense opposition and had to pass it back. I took it, evading the enemy center, and shot, scoring. I looked back, happy. The other team’s small forward wasn’t so happy; he was glaring, specifically at me as he hung back a bit. I ignored him, running back in position as the game went on. 

The other team got the ball once again. They took it up the court once again. Someone passed it to the small forward again. I got in between them and the hoop. 

As I established my position in defense, the small forward dodged around, so I stepped to keep up. Instead of stepping on the flooring, something swung at my leg, knocking me over. The whistle blew. I looked up; the ref was calling tripping. The small forward didn’t bother helping me up, instead huffing as he walked away. I got up on my own before anyone could help me. My ankle ached; I could tell that the small forward had a powerful kick. 

The game started again. The small forward didn’t get it this time, but he still bumped up against me, guarding me from getting passed to. When I got the chance, I stepped around him, but as I moved he elbowed my back. Pain exploded through my spine as he made contact with my burn. I had to pause, bend over, and suck in a breath as I waited for the pain to pass. I hoped no one had noticed; the ball hadn’t been near us, so the ref hadn’t been looking, but I didn’t want to look injured or like a pussy. After a few moments, I was up and running again, this time a little more frustrated and with a goal of throwing the damn small forward off. I glared at his back as our team got the ball onto the other half of the court. He was number 8. Simmons and Billy were passing through Steve as they got through the Cougars’ defense, and Simmons scored. Once again, the ball was moving towards our court. 

The Cougars’ point guard was hanging back with the ball, passing it around and trying to figure out a way to get it down to our half. He passed it to their shooting guard, who passed it up to the small forward again. The small forward dribbled back up, and I jumped in front of him, blocking his movements from his teammates. He scowled at me, before feigning to the left, then charging my right. I stepped out, trying to block, but got myself kicked again in the exact same ankle. Pain exploded up my leg as I fell. This time, it wasn’t just bruising. 

I couldn’t help myself.

“FUCK.” I grabbed at my ankle, hissing and hoping to whatever deities I could think of that it wasn’t broken. 

I didn’t even hear the whistle, but I knew everything stopped for a second as I rubbed viciously at my ankle to get it to stop. It didn’t, of course, but after a few seconds I felt confident enough to try getting up. It was rough. Suddenly, Billy was there, pulling me up and helping me test my leg out. His breath was hot on my neck as I put weight on my ankle.

“You good? Is it broken?” He murmured to me. 

“Thanks. Don’t think so,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. 

It hurt, really bad, but my pain tolerance was granting me the ability to sort of hobble. I looked over at Coach Riley, who was staring at us, his arms folded. I gave him a look that screamed for help. Coach Riley hurriedly called for a sub in, and I shoved Billy off as I hobbled off of the court as someone replaced me. The way off the court felt long as I limped hard, and after a few steps, Billy helped me finish the way and onto the bench before running back onto the court. I moved my leg up onto the bench with me, groaning at the feeling of my ankle bending to the cold metal. The coaches were on me as soon as the game was back in session. 

Coach Riley got there first. 

“How bad?”

“Not broken, I think. Probably just really bruised. Definitely at least sprained,” I strained. Coach Hawke came up with two ice packs, which he handed to Coach Riley. Coach Riley settled them on the sides of my ankle. Coach Hawke returned to the game as Coach Riley addressed the damage.

“It’s already swollen. That’s not optimal,” he observed. I shrugged when he looked at me. 

Coach Riley moved up closer to me before suddenly reaching behind me and pulling my jersey up.

“Goddamnit, Slade,” he hissed when he saw my burn. I squirmed away from him, but he just dropped the jersey and moved back to my leg.

“You come in with another injury like that and you have to tell me. I’m sick of you just showing up with injuries unannounced and acting like you can still play. That-” he pointed to my back, “-is pretty bad, and I needed to know about it before putting you on the court today.”

“Sorry.” I looked down at the bench. “I played with it fine last week during practice, so I thought I’d be able to handle a game,” I admitted. Coach Riley glared at me. 

“That’s my call, understand? I saw number eight elbow you on the court; and yeah, the elbowing was ridiculously forceful and illegal, but your reaction to it told me enough.” 

I was thoroughly embarrassed, so I didn’t respond. Coach Riley turned back to my ankle.

“This, you need to get an x-ray. It’s swelling pretty bad. You said it wasn’t broken?”

I nodded.

“You’ve broken bones before?”

“Yeah.”

“Just to be careful, you still need an x-ray. Grab one after the game, alright?”

“Sure.”

Coach Riley rolled his eyes at me before moving the ice around and bending down, grabbing a bag from under the bench and pulling a first aid kit out of it. He took some wrapping out of it, the kind with the spikey clips to hold the fabric in place and some white fuzzy wrapping, before untying my white nike shoe. I knew what was going to happen next.

“This is going to hurt.” That was all the warning I got from Riley before he tugged the shoe off.

“Shit,” I hissed, all the muscles in my body tensed up as my ankle spiked in pain. Coach Riley just took the sock off in one movement before lifting my leg and holding it as he began to wrap my ankle in the fuzzy white bandage stuff. I’d used the wrap before, but it had been a long time since I’d broken anything. Coach Riley quietly wrapped the ankle up, wrapping the food and lower leg as well. Then, out came the more flesh-colored bandage, which he wrapped around the white fuzzy wrapping tightly. He finished by putting in two of the spikey clips. 

“There,” he said, slapping it. I cringed in pain but sat up straighter.

“Thanks.”

“Tell me next time.”

Then, Coach Riley turned back to the game. 

“Damn, Hargrove and Harrington work really well together when they aren’t cockfighting,” the coach muttered to himself. I tried not to snicker, and Coach Riley looked at me. “You three are all going to kick ass once you catch up,” he told me, before walking off. 

I was flattered.

I left my leg up on the bench, and had to twist my upper body to watch the game, my hands gripping the sides of the bleachers. 

Billy and Steve were working fantastically as they tag-teamed the ball for most of the rest of the game. Even Steve scored at least ten points, although I lost count pretty fast. Billy got fouled for knocking the other small forward over. That made me smile a little, and when he looked at the bleachers after the ref blew the whistle, he made eye contact with me and smiled back before returning to the game. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy, like he’d gotten revenge or some cheesy shit. Eventually, it came to the point where we got a few free throws, and Simmons took them, making all three. A little later (after Billy and, surprisingly, Steve had gotten a few too many fouls), the Cougars got some free-throws as well. They only made two. To be honest, I was surprised both teams had made it into the third quarter before the free-throws began. That was really odd. I counted it as the ref being negligent or something, because there were definitely a lot of fouls that went unnoticed. Once into the fourth quarter and the score was 86-67 (in favor of Hawkins), the Cougars started playing a lot more aggressively, playing foul after foul. Our team got another two rounds of free throws within the first three minutes of playing. Billy shot three in, Simmons missed one. It didn’t matter; we started pulling further ahead when North Bloomington started getting more careless in their stretches to score. By three minutes till finish, we were up 95-70. That’s when Steve got fouled on, and it wasn’t good.

I remember watching intensely as the Cougars’ center got a little too close for comfort with Steve, discreetly and repeatedly fouling him behind the ref’s back. Coach Riley was screaming for the ref to catch him, but he didn’t until it was too late. An especially bad shove forced Steve’s face into the ground, and I was sure I could hear the crunch from the bench. 

“STEVE!” I stood up, ignoring my ankle. 

People can die from a broken nose getting pushed into their brain, right?

I watched intensely, wanting to run up and help, but I knew there was nothing I could do. Steve lay there much longer than I’d been down when I’d gotten tripped. Someone had to flip him over and onto his back. Billy and Simmons hovered over him, the offending Cougars' center getting a flagrant foul from the ref and kicked off the court for the game. My anxiety peaked when Steve didn’t take the hand Simmons gave him to give up. It took Billy and Simmons grabbing Steve’s shoulders to haul him up and get him off the court and towards me. Or, well, the bench. Coach Hawke left the bench to help get Steve over. Steve looked awful; within the minute or two he’d been on the floor, his nose had changed color and bent viciously, swelling slightly already. There was blood dripping onto his jersey and the floor. He looked very, very dizzy, swaying and not seeming to be able to find his footing as he was practically carried over to the bench. 

“Steve. Steve,” when he was off the court, I limped over, trying to get him to respond. His eyes glazed over, not responding. 

“Shit.” I looked at Coach Hawke, who nodded in the directing of the bench. I grabbed one of Steve’s shoulders from Simmons, my ankle crying out as I put on the weight of another half person. Coach Hawke led us over to an empty spot and had Billy and I lay Steve down before he told Billy to get his ass back onto the court and me to put Steve’s head in my lap to stop him from choking on his own blood. I obliged, hopping onto the bench myself, not caring that I would most definitely get blood all over my shorts. 

“Do you have experience with concussions, Slade?” Coach Hawke quickly asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve had loads of them.”

“Okay. Hold his head up higher, I’m going to try finding the concussion flashlight.” Hawke moved off of Steve and started digging around the team’s bags.

“Steve,” I called, lifting Steve’s head up higher, and he blinked. 

I paused.

“Can you respond?”

No response.

“Alright. If you’re not coherent, then I’m gonna set your nose while your still out.” I balanced his head in one hand as I shifted a little, getting a better angle at his face before holding his nose shut.

“This is gonna hurt. If you can hear me.”

No response.

“Alright.” 

I snapped his nose in place as quickly as I could without messing it up. Steve sat up immediately, howling.

“Fucking HELL-”

“-So you ARE coherent. Welcome back,” I told him, and he turned, surprised that I was there. 

“James?”

“That’s me.”

“Wha-what happened?” His voice sounded extremely congested. I grabbed his hand, held it to his face, and helped him pinch his nose.

“You got knocked face first into the ground. Guy who did it is out of the game. You’ve got a concussion, and I just fixed your broken nose.” 

Steve took a few long moments to try to piece together what I was saying. 

“So… I broke my nose,” he said, very slowly like he didn’t understand it still. I nodded. 

“Yes. Your nose is broken.” I responded slowly in return. I grabbed one of my ice packs and gave it to him. He seemed to process that, grabbing it and holding it to his face, but he swayed a bit on the bench. I grabbed his shoulders and held him up straight before pulling him towards me more and steadying him with one arm around his shoulders. He fell into my shoulder a bit, frame softening. We were both sweaty as hell. I looked onto the court; we were still winning, and that was all that mattered. Coach Hawke made his way back over.

“Found it. Okay, Harrington, you’re going to need to keep your eyes open. Can you do that?” The coach didn't notice that I'd set his nose, or if he did, he didn't comment on it.

Steve shrugged, making a funny face as he smiled.

“It’s gonna be bright.” Coach Hawke flipped the small flashlight in his hands on, shining it into Steve’s right eye. Steve started blinking like crazy. Coach Hawke still seemed to get what he wanted, thought, and moved the flashlight away.

“Yeah, that’s a concussion, alright,” the coach grumbled, flicking the flashlight off. “Gonna have to call his parents for this.”

“Parents aren’t home,” Steve helpfully added through the ice pack.

“Well, you can’t drive. I’m putting someone in charge of you.” Coach Hawke turned to me. “And you shouldn’t be driving, either. You drive a manual?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn, that’ll suck balls unless someone else drives. Do you think you need someone else to drive?”

I thought for a moment.

“I’ll be fine. If I run into trouble later, I’ll just ask Hargrove.”

Coach Hawke nodded.

“Okay. Then I’ll put Hargrove in charge of Harrington.” He walked off to join Coach Riley, and they talked for a bit. I assumed he was updating him on Steve’s situation.

Steve looked up at me, eyes wide.

“Hargove?” He asked, voice high. I rolled my eyes.

“You’ll be fine. It’s just for tonight. And, hey, if when I try driving later I find that I can’t do it well, I’ll join you, yeah?”

Steve looked away, pouting. 

“Come on, don’t be a priss,” I laughed at him. “Billy’s not that bad. You’ll survive.”

“Will I?” He sassed, but I could feel his laughter through his chest pressed against my side. 

“Yeah. You’ll be fine.” 

We both turned back to the game, just in time to see Billy score in the last five seconds. When he did, he turned back to us, ginning widely and giving us a thumbs up. I gave him a thumbs up back with my free arm as Steve just scowled. The game was over fast after that; the Cougars didn’t make it anywhere near our side of the court after they got the ball back. When I looked at the board, the final score read 101-70, a clean win for Hawkins. 

All the guys were really excited, chest-bumping each other like idiots as they celebrated. A large portion of them came over to Steve, making sure he was okay, and even a few of them asked me about my ankle. With each new conversation, Steve seemed more and more conscious and bright-eyed. Reluctantly, at some point in the celebration, Billy made his way over and sat on the side of me opposite Steve. 

“We won, bitches,” he grinned, tongue wagging. I laughed at him.

“We did.” I slapped his slimy back with my free hand. 

With every passing minute I was free form exercise, I felt more and more disgusted with the ridiculous amount of sweat covering us all. 

“Max say hi yet?” I asked him, and Billy shrugged, looking away.

“She’s probably gone already.”

I looked over him at the stands. Max, Susan and Billy’s dad were making their way down, slowly but surely. 

“They’re still here,” I informed him, but Billy only grabbed his towel from the bench, finally starting to wipe at his face. 

“What happened with him?” Billy gestured at Steve. “I didn’t see it since I had the ball.”

“Enemy center knocked him onto his face.” I lurched a bit as Steve’s head knocked into my shoulder in embarrassment. I caught Billy’s gaze darken, but he didn’t say anything, toweling his face again instead.

“Coach Hawke recommended you take him home, are you up for that?” I asked him. Billy froze, then shrugged.

“I think I can. I’ll have to ask my dad first if he’s still here.”

“He’s coming up close, just a few rows away now.”

Billy stood up straight, scooting away a bit to grab his water bottle and take a long drink from the probably alcoholic gatorade. He started tapping the tip of his foot against the floor. 

I thought about what Max had told me in the car ride to her house, but I decided that this wasn’t the right time to think about it. 

Sure enough, Billy’s family made their way over quickly. When Billy’s dad came down in front of us, Billy stood up fast. Max was up close to her mom just a few steps from us as well.

“You did alright tonight, son,” Neil Hargrove said, face completely straight. He was almost glaring.

“Thanks, sir.” Billy’s face didn’t move.

“I assume your team will want to celebrate your first victory. I’ll allow, just tonight, not showing up in time for dinner.” Mr. Hargrove’s voice was cold.

“Thank you, sir,” Billy breathed out, tense. Neil nodded, then stepped away a bit, and Billy sat down, a little tension leaving his shoulders. Max hesitantly moved in our direction. 

“How’s Steve?” She asked, and I looked at Steve.

“Still alive. Barely,” I smiled at her. She smiled back apprehensively. 

“You looked really cool, James,” She told me, before slowly turning to Billy, who still wouldn't look at her. “You did, too,” she said, quieter. Billy’s eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t show anything else.

“You all did so well!” Susan suddenly exclaimed, breaking into the awkwardness. “James, how’s your foot? It looked awful,” she told me. I shrugged.

“It’s fine. It’s really my ankle that hurts, but it’s probably just sprained.”

“I hope it gets well soon. You have another game Friday, right?”

I bobbed my head at her.

“Well, I hope it’ll be fine by then.” She turned to Billy. “Billy, you did so well. I’m proud of you.”

Billy froze again.

“Thanks, Susan.”

“Well, we’d better get out of these boys' hair, honey,” Susan told Neil, and he nodded. 

“I hope that how you performed today continues through the season,” he ended to Billy, before turning and walking off with Susan. Max lingered for a bit.

“Will Steve really be okay?’ She whispered, and I nodded.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“It’s just, he’s got concussions before-”

“-He will be fine, Max. Leave him alone.” Billy’s voice rang out and Max shut up.

“Maxine,” Susan called, and she was turning away, throwing one last look at Steve before she left. 

“Asshole,” she hissed at Billy, before making the final step around and not looking back. 

Once they were out of earshot, Billy took another drink of gatorade before speaking.

“Max said that Steve was acting odd lately. Know what that’s about?” 

I shrugged, Steve’s head moving with my shoulders.

“He’s seemed a bit stressed. That’s about it.”

“I’m right here, you fuckers,” Steve muttered. I laughed.

“I don’t want you bothering my step sister,” Billy grumbled at Steve. I shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Max will survive. She’s probably just worried.” I reached to grab my own water bottle, opening the top so I could chug a bunch at once. Billy watched me, visibly annoyed, but he turned back to the court as I set my water down, his elbows on his knees.

“Steve, do you think you can walk yet?” I asked him, nudging Steve slightly. He groaned.

“Not yet. A few more minutes?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m just ready to shower.”

Billy snorted at me, but didn’t comment. 

Abruptly, three people stood in front of me. Edward, Jess, and Ethan had somehow made it from the top of the bleachers down. 

“Hey, James,” Jess tried, uncharacteristically shy. 

“Hey.” I hugged Steve tighter to me, needing the support.

“Can we talk?” Edward stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“I can’t really move right now, but yeah, I can talk here.” 

“Okay. I just- I’m really sorry about what I said on Friday. I shouldn't have said that shit.” Edward looked away.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I was a massive dick, I shouldn't have reacted like I did.”

Edward looked surprised, and Jess just snickered at him.

“See? If you apologize first, this shit gets over sooner,” she goaded him. 

“Right. Um.” Edward coughed. I laughed at him. 

“How is it with playing with my dad?’ Ethan suddenly asked. I looked at him funny.

“Dad?”

“Ethan Hawke? Coach Hawke? He’s my dad.”

“Oh. OH.” I paused. “Fine. He’s fine, a good coach.”

“We missed you at lunch,” Ethan added, and some heat rose to my face.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. Yeah, I’ll come next time?” I scrambled. 

“Sweet. Yeah, we’ll see you then,” Edward finished, and then they were gone. Billy raised his eyebrows at me.

“What the hell was that?”

“We had a fight.”

“Okaaaay.” Billy stopped. “That was a shit apology.”

“Like you would know about apologies, asshole,” Steve suddenly grumbled, then chuckled against me. I snorted. 

“You ready to move yet?” I looked down at him.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Steve moved off of me, but I still held his shoulder.

“I’ll hold on to you to make sure, okay?”

Steve nodded, then started standing up. He struggled a bit, shaky, but I stood up with him and made sure he wouldn't fall. 

“Showers?” Steve asked.

“Showers,” I affirmed, and I looked down at Billy. “You coming?”

“Right. Yeah.” Billy got off his ass, groaning as his muscles burned. I knew the feeling. 

We shuffled off and grabbed our bags, me limping while steadying Steve, Billy making no move to help. Once we reached the doors to the gym, I turned to Billy, telling him it was his turn to help Steve. Billy reluctantly moved over and grabbed Steve’s other shoulder, leading him off of me and through the door. I hobbled to follow them.

The showers were glorious. I could nearly feel my muscles melting underneath the stream of the water. I’d had to take the wrap off of my foot to shower, but once it had gotten under the stream, it had started to feel better, too. I figured I might be able to drive to the Byers’ to meet with Jonathan. In an odd moment, Billy took a shower by us, and we all lathered up in silence. Once we’d finished, I sat Steve on a bench and threw him his bag to fend for himself before dressing myself. As I pulled my shirt on, Billy broke the silence.

“Are you busy tonight?”

I looked at him funny.

“Just, I’d rather not be stuck with Steve. Alone.” He gave me a look.

“Right. Uh, I’ve actually got to meet someone for something, for school? Yeah. For school.” I had been caught unawares. “Byers. I’ve got a project with him. Although, we don’t share a class, but it’s for- something. For something.”

Billy played with his shirt in his hands, raising his eyebrows at me again.

“Really? That was an awful lie.”

“I really am meeting Jonathan,” I told him. “For a project. Definitely for a project.” I re-wrapped my ankle. 

Steve snorted from his bench, but I ignored him. Billy turned away.

“Fine.” Billy sounded funny. I couldn’t see his face. 

“Wish I could help though?” I tried. Billy didn’t respond. I grabbed my bag, putting it on my shoulder.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow, yeah? Though not you, Steve, you should stay home.” I gave Steve a look.

“We’ll see,” Steve shrugged.

I stood there, exasperated for a few moments, before nodding and leaving. 

“Don’t show up,” I threw back at him before walking out the door. 

I limped down the hallway and out to my car, completely unaware of what was about to occur.

Billy and Steve were still in the locker room, dressing. Steve was watching Billy gather his things as he pulled his shorts on. Billy wasn’t looking at him, but he probably felt Steve’s eyes on his back. 

“James was acting a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” Steve asked. Billy grunted. “I wonder what he’s up to,” Steve continued, Billy continuing to ignore him.

“Aren’t you at least a little curious?” Steve crossed his legs once his shorts were on, eyeing Billy. Billy shrugged.

“Not my business.”

“Really? Well, that’s boring,” Steve said in monotone, throwing on his team sweatshirt.

“What do you want?” Billy stood up straight, looking back at Steve.

“I want to find out what James is up to.”

“And why the HELL do you want to know that?”

“Because he’s hanging out with Byers, is why, and that’s weird.”

Billy stopped, then threw his bag over his shoulder. 

“Stand up on your own, yeah?” He told Steve, and Steve rolled his eyes before stumbling up from the bench, grabbing his own bag and shifting over to Billy. 

“I’ll help you to and from the car, but after that, I’m calling it quits, understand?” Billy put his hand on his hip. Steve nodded.

“Sure. Sounds good.” He steadied himself on Billy and Billy looked up at the ceiling, visibly annoyed. 

“Alright. Just hold on to me, okay? That’s probably the only way we’ll both get through this,” he started forward, “and whatever you do, do NOT throw up in my car. You throw up in my car and I deck you, understand?” 

“I’m not going to throw up in your car,” Steve grumbled. Billy glared at him 

“You better not.”

And with that, they both made their way out to the camaro. 

Once out, Steve started shivering. It was below freezing outside again, and Steve’s hair was still wet. He separated from Billy and rushed to the camaro, getting there well before Billy. 

“You sure you need my help?” Billy muttered, slowly unlocking the doors. Steve glared at him, moving to open the passenger door before slipping and falling on the ice, smacking into the camaro. 

“Fucking HELL,” Billy groaned, but walked around the car anyways, grabbing Steve’s arm to pull him up and opened the door for him before shoving him into his seat, Billy then closed the door behind him, walking back to his door.

“God dammit, James,” he growled as he yanked his own door open, lowering himself inside and slamming the door behind him. Grabbing his keys from his bag, he keyed the wheel, the car roaring to life as the air came on. It blasted them both, and Steve started shaking even more, clearly miserable. Billy stared at him.

“God, you’re pitiful.” He still moved the heat to the max. Steve just glared at Billy from his seat, teeth chattering. Billy reversed the camaro and pulled out of the parking lot.

Once they’d really started going into the night, Steve spoke again.

“Do you know where the Byers is?”

“No.”

“It’s where you beat me up.”

“Fuck, Harrington, I don’t care.”

“I want you to drop me off there.”

Billy turned to look at Steve.

“Really? You really want me to drop you off at the Byers.”

“Yeah.”

“I doubt they even have heating, Harrington.”

Steve looked away at that, jaw clenched.

“Don’t care. Take me to the Byers.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

Steve glared at Billy.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Don’t call you princess, princess?”

“Shut the hell up. Don’t call me that.”

“Maybe I should just take the princess home. You’re probably not thinking straight after-”

“-Take me to the goddamn Byers and shut the hell up, asshole.” Steve folded his arms, shivering just slightly less from the anger that was heating the car better than the vents.

“What the princess asks, her servant delivers,” Billy muttered, glaring at the road. Steve rolled his eyes.

“God, do you EVER shut up?”

“Really? When do I shut up? When does PRINCESS over here shut up,” Billy retorted.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Steve hissed.

“Fucking hell. I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“NO, I DIDN’T.”

“YES, YOU DID.”

“How fucking old are you?”

“Older than you, asshole,” Steve whined.

“How about this: I take you to the Byers, in silence. You don’t talk. I don’t talk. We both leave happy,” Billy sassed.

“Fine.”

“FINE.” Billy turned to the road once more. 

A few miles away, I had reached the Byers. I regretted it, of course, the burning in my ankle exceeding what it had been before when I’d limped to the showers, but I knew I’d get over it soon. After all, I had a lot of trudging around in the woods to complete.

I parked in the Byers driveway, meeting Jonathan, who was already out waiting for me. We headed out to the shed to go over plans.

Steve and Billy were driving in silence. Once in a while, Billy looked over at Steve to check on him, who was still shivering, but it grew to be less and less. Once they turned down the lane for the Byers’ house, Billy tried engaging Steve again.

“Are you sure you want the Byers?”

Steve nodded.

“Okay.”

“Wait. Can you turn your beams off?”

Billy looked at Steve incredulously as he drove.

“No way in hell.”

“Please?”

“Fuck, Harrington, you wanna sneak around, do it on your own time, yeah?”

Billy turned the lights off anyway. Lucky for them both, the road was fairly straight, so Billy could pick out the way to the house without the lights, for the most part. Once they got close enough, they rolled to a quiet stop, Billy shutting off the engine. 

“This close enough?” He asked, but Steve was looking out at the house. There, stepping into the light of the front porch, were Jonathan and I. I was holding the spiked bat, Jonathan a gasoline can.

“Holy shit, what the hell are they doing?” Billy suddenly spurted, taking his keys from their spot in the ignition. 

“What’re you doing?” Steve looked at Billy, wide-eyed, as Billy quietly opened the camaro door and stepped outside. Steve followed him.

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed again. Billy watched as Jonathan and I made our way back around the house again.

“What are they doing,” Billy said again, then started walking after us. Steve stumbled up to Billy.

“Leave. Leave now.”

“Definitely can’t leave now, princess. Guess you’ve finally grabbed my curiosity.”

“This isn’t FUNNY, Hargrove, go home.”

“Not going.”

“Dammit. Okay. Follow me.” Steve started moving towards the house.

“Nope, you’re following me,” Billy got ahead of Steve, and Steve grumbled. 

“This is actually dangerous, Hargrove.”

“Yeah. I get that this is serious shit. Fucking drop it, I’m coming, and I’m not following you into whatever the hell this is. I’m going in first. Hurry, or we’re going to lose them,” Billy bossed, and Steve stumbled after him. After a few steps, Billy stopped, scowled, and traced back to Steve before grabbing Steve’s arm and guiding him to the house. It took them a while, but they made their way around the driveway and the house, watching as Jonathan and I’s flashlights disappeared into the woods.

“Fuck. We need to hurry,” Steve muttered.

“That’s up to you, princess.”

“Asshole.”

“Dipshit.”

“Fucker.”

“That’s enough. Let’s just follow them, okay?” Billy growled, dragging Steve with him into the woods. 

They made it about fifty feet in before they officially lost the light of the flashlights ahead of them.

“Did you bring a flashlight?” Steve questioned into the darkness, nervous.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Well shit, that’s fucking fantastic, Harrington, we’re fucked.”

“Don’t put this on me, asshole, you should’ve brought one!”

“I wasn’t putting it on you!”

“Yes, you were!”

“God, look at me, arguing with a fucking INVALID,” Billy hissed into the darkness. Neither of them could see each other then. 

“I’M NOT AN INVALID.”

“YES, YOU FUCKING ARE. YOU’RE A GODDAMN PRINCESS WHO NEEDS SAVING.” Billy had had enough of Steve’s shit, and Steve had had enough of Billy’s. 

“WELL, YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

“YES, I AM. DEAL WITH IT!” 

“FINE. I’LL JUST FIND THEM ON MY OWN!” Steve started walking off.

“FINE. I GUESS I WILL, TOO!”

A twig snapped, just a few feet from them. 

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT-” Steve was reaching out, grabbing for Billy, and Billy stepped into Steve knocking him over.

“What the hell?”

“Shut. Up.” Billy growled. “There’s something right there.”

Steve guessed that he must’ve been pointing, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Where.”

“To your right.”

Steve turned slowly from his position on the ground, looking into the darkness as he got up. 

“Hargrove, run.”

“What the fuck? No.”

“You have no idea-”

“-No, WE have no idea. We both can’t see shit, and we should stay together if it’s a large animal. I’m not moving.”

Something in front of them made a low, guttural sound.

Steve froze.

“Well,” he chuckled, scared shitless. “That isn’t a normal animal, so you should leave. Now.”

“What the hell sounds like that,” Billy muttered. Steve grabbed him.

“I’m serious. I know what this is. You need to leave.”

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why the HELL-”

Billy stopped when the thing growled again. 

It was closer.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to scream, really loud. Hopefully, James or Jonathan will hear us,” Steve was shaking against Billy. Billy couldn't tell if it was from fear or cold. 

“You do that.”

“Okay.”

Steve let out the highest, loudest scream humanly possible. Billy dropped, covering his ears as Steve screamed. When he stopped, Billy staggered up. 

“That was fucking loud,” he hissed.

“Uh, yeah, it was supposed to be,” Steve was rolling his eyes, but Billy didn’t know that.

“I’m going to scream again,” Steve warned. Billy covered his ears.

Steve screamed.

Jonathan suddenly stopped.

“Did you hear that?” He shined his light into the trees behind us. “It sounded like a scream”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention,” I turned, too, to look into the trees. 

Then, I heard it.

“Fuck.”

“Shit, that’s Steve.”

“That’s STEVE?” I asked, incredulous. “What the hell is he doing out here-”

“-Doesn’t matter, he’s screaming. We need to go.”

“Yeah. Going, now.” 

We ran off into the woods in the direction of the screams. 

When Steve stopped screaming, he could feel the hot, stinking breath of something right above his head.

“Uh, Hargrove?” He whimpered.

“What.”

“It’s above me.”

“Shit.”

Billy lunged, grabbing into the darkness, hoping to come into contact with something. He did. He didn’t like it. It was slimy, and cold, and large. It snarled. Billy tried to bring it down.

“NEED SOME HELP, HARRINGTON!” 

Steve grabbed, too, feeling for something like teeth.

“Find the teeth and hit around it.”

“WHAT?”

“FIND THE TEETH AND HIT AROUND-” Steve was broken off when one of the creature’s limbs smacked him. He thought quickly, grabbing it and digging his fingers into its flesh. It growled. He pushed it forward. The inertia from Billy gripping its legs and Steve shoving its arm and shoulder threw the thing to the ground. 

“STEVE? DID YOU GET IT?”

“I THINK SO! HIT IT, JUST KEEP HITTING IT-” Steve stopped to grab around for the demogorgon’s head. 

Billy spotted lights in the distance.

“I THINK THEY’RE GETTING CLOSER,” he told Steve.

“JAMES! JONOTHAN!” Steve called as he scrambled over the forest floor. Something dug into his leg.

“FUCK!” Billy screamed. Something had gotten his shoulder and was gnawing at it. He hit it as hard as he could, but it wasn’t letting go.

“JAMES! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP, GODDAMNIT!” Billy yelled in pain.

“JONOTHAN,” Steve yelled again.

“Oh, I definitely hear that,” I muttered, running faster and trying not to trip like I had my first trip in the woods. 

“They didn’t bring flashlights, did they.” Jonathan panted from behind me.

“Doesn’t look like it.” 

“Lovely,” I groaned. 

“WHY AREN’T THEY HERE YET?” Billy howled.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, BILLY. JUST DON’T DIE.” Steve was trying to hit around his leg and Billy’s shoulder.

“WHY DO YOU CAR-”

“JUST DON’T!”

“Are- are they arguing?” Jonathan gasped, out of breath.

“Fucking idiots,” I kept running. “At least they’re not dead, right?”

Jonathan didn’t answer. 

Then, we saw them.

Once I could pick out their struggling forms, I immediately shone my light on them, the light bouncing up and down with my steps.

“STEVE! BILLY?” I yelled. Their eyes shone in the light.

“JAMES!” They screamed unanimously. 

“You get Steve, I’ll get Billy,” I told Jonathan, not waiting for a reaction as I sped towards the action. I could see Billy’s blood seeping through his sweatshirt, a demogorgon with a hold on his shoulder and just a bit of Steve’s leg.

“Billy,” I grabbed him. I’d never seen him this scared. “Help me out, okay? I’m gonna force this thing off of you, but you have to move away when I do. Okay?”

Billy nodded, not speaking. I could see the pain in his eyes. 

“Okay. I’ll tell you when.” I handed him the flashlight, then grabbed the demogorgon’s petal jaws that held Billy with both hands.

“One, two, THREE-” I threw them apart for just a split second, and Billy wiggled his way out of them and onto the forest floor, moaning in pain. 

“JONATHAN! DO YOU HAVE STEVE?” I called out.

“YEAH, HE’S FREE!”

“GASOLINE. NOW!” I grabbed Billy, pulling him up and away from the demogorgon as Jonathan dumped the gasoline can onto the thing. I fumbled for the lighter in my pocket as it started to get up.

“ANY TIME NOW, JAMES,” Jonathan yelled.

“YEAH, I’M ON IT!” I grabbed my lighter, pulling it out, then lit it. I dropped it on the demogorgon.

It burst into flames, searing everything around it as it screamed. The flames lit the woods with orange light; I could see Steve and Jonathan on the other side of the fire. I let out a long breath, stepping back and bringing Billy with me. We watched it writhe in silence. Once it was clearly dead, I spun on Billy.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Me? What the fuck am I DOING HERE?” He howled, glaring viciously at me. We were interrupted as Steve started to freak out.

“What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK,” he screamed. Jonothan grabbed him, trying to cool him down, but Steve ripped himself out of Jonothan’s grasp.

“THIS IS INSANE. THIS IS INSANE,” He repeated, stepping away from Jonathan. 

“Hey, Steve, it’s oka-” I tried, raising a hand.

“-NO, it’s NOT OKAY,” Steve pointed at me. “IT’S NOT OKAY THAT YOU LIED.” He turned on Jonathan. “UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCE WOULD GOING BEHIND MY BACK BE OKAY?”

“I didn’t lie,” I mumbled, but I knew it was pointless.

“IT WAS A LIE OF OMISSION AND YOU KNOW THAT, MOTHERFUCKER.” Steve's voice cracked on 'omission'.

“So, you just, thought you’d follow us into the woods? Like a creep? An injured creep, at that,” I glared back. Steve looked away, folding his arms.

“You kept this from me,” He muttered, quieter. Jonathan moved to speak, but Steve stopped him.

“You don’t get to talk.”

Jonathan just stood there. I felt really bad for him.

“Of all people, you should’ve known better,” Steve growled at him. Jonathan ducked his head down. 

“What in hell is going on.” Billy’s voice was cold. “That’s no fucking animal. What the hell is going on?”

Steve and I looked at each other.

“Uh, I’ll explain that later, yeah?” I just hoped that Billy wouldn’t freak out on me like Steve. I couldn’t handle two train wrecks. I turned back to Steve. “Listen, you DID just walk into the woods injured without a flashlight at night when you KNEW demogorgons were out. Can you give us the night off? We DID just save your asses. I’m tired as hell and my ankle hurts.” 

I could see Billy’s glare lessen slightly, but Steve just huffed.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s late right now, and all of you should be in bed,” he raised his eyebrows at us. I chuckled, ignoring Steve’s glare.

“Alright. Off to bed, everyone,” I joked, and Billy snickered. Steve glowered at us both, stomping off into the brush.

“Hey, your coordination is improving!” I called after him, and I could hear him mutter something particularly rude. I looked at Billy. “I’ll take him home, okay? Will you be fine on your own? That looks pretty nasty,” I looked at his shoulder. Billy tried to shrug, but it looked painful.

“I’ll be fine. This is nothing.” 

“Sure. Well, don’t show up dead somewhere, or I’ll kill you over again.”

Billy snorted, shuffling off after Steve. I looked at Jonathan, who still hadn’t moved.

“I’ll try to talk to him, okay?” I told him more softly. Jonathan didn’t look up. 

“Come on,” I walked over to him, tugged at his jacket and we walked after Steve and Billy.

The ride back home was going to be rough.


	16. A Talk

It was insanely hard to convince Billy to leave without giving him a full explanation, but there must have been something in my eyes when I told him that now was not the time that made him understand he’d find out later. 

To be honest, Billy didn’t scare me at all, even though he was angry about the whole demogorgon and keeping secrets stuff. What scared me more was an angry Steve. He refused to look at Jonathan once we got back to my car, both of them not saying a word until I said goodbye to Byers. Billy had stormed off down the road to his own car. I worried if I had misjudged his shoulder wound and whether I should have taken him home too, but the flash of light and roar of the camaro down the road told me he was okay.

“Why are your seatbelts so hard to buckle?” Steve grumbled from my passenger seat.

“Still concussed?” I asked Steve warily as he fumbled with his seatbelt. He glared at the seatbelt, frustrated. 

“You mention the concussion again and your ass is grass,” Steve muttered.

I sighed.

“Do you need help buckling up?”

There was a pause, then Steve slackened up, exhausted.

“Yes,” he mumbled, and I leaned over to buckle him, being reminded of doing this for someone else in the distant past.

“I had to buckle up Billy when he was drunk saturday. He was completely out of it,” I tried to comfort Steve, sensing that he was embarrassed. 

“You drove him home?” Steve stiffened when I finished his buckle.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

For some reason, it got awkward after that. I flicked the lights on before starting the wagon and pulling out, waving to Jonathan who was still watching from his porch. He barely waved back. Once we were down the road, I pulled up next to Billy, who still hadn’t moved the car. His window was down. I rolled my own down, poking my head out slightly. Steve sank in his seat as I did so.

“Billy! I promise I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow, okay?” 

Billy’s eyes lifted a bit from his car, and I noticed he had an open stubbie in his hand. I glared at him.

“Don’t you dare drive drunk,” I told him, and Billy just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to get drunk from one beer. ‘Sides, I can drive drunk fine.” He turned, taking a drink. 

“Absolutely not. I’m not leaving until you either give me that beer or dump it out, Hargrove. You know as well as I do that you can’t do shit drunk.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Billy grumbled, but there wasn’t any bite to it this time. I held my arm out of the car.

“What’ll it be, Billy?”

Billy growled as he handed me his stubby jarringly, some of the beer splashing onto my hand. I gripped the glass.

“Thanks. PLEASE don’t drink and drive, okay?” I said softer. Billy just looked away guiltily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, I rolled up my window and started to drive away, handing Steve the beer.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” 

“Drink it?” I moved to turn on the radio, turning the volume down so that it was barely playing anything. Steve perked up.

“Toto?” He nudged the volume up a bit.

“You like Toto? You and Billy,” I laughed, and Steve shook his head.

“There’s no way in hell Billy likes Toto.”

“Uh, yeah, there is, I went in his room and he had a Toto cassette. On his bookshelf.”

Steve laughed at that.

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want you to know that. You know, with his image in all,” he raised his eyebrows. I chuckled back.

“There’s quite a few things he’s going to regret me seeing when he was drunk on Saturday.” I didn’t elaborate. Steve just nodded, taking a sip of the beer. 

“Pass me some?” I asked him, and he made a face into the can.

“You just said no drunk driving.”

“You know that I didn’t get drunk on Saturday, right? I had to drive Billy home. Can you guess how much alcohol I had but didn’t get drunk?” 

Steve stopped, thinking.

“I have no idea.”

“I had at least five cocktails.”

“No fucking way. You’re joking,” Steve gripped the beer. I nodded.

“Yeah. Takes a lot to get me drunk. Now hand it over.” I held out my hand for the glass again, and Steve reluctantly passed it over. 

“God, I hope Hopper doesn’t pull us over,” he groaned, and I took a sip. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. I took a longer pull before passing it back.

“Has he pulled you over before?”

Steve nodded, cheeks red. 

“He was really pissed. He has a daughter, you know? Sometimes I babysit for him, and we’ve been through some stuff, so he knows me well and let me off. Still, he won’t drop it. Caught me with bourbon in my lap driving my BMW.”

“Holy shit, he let you go?”

“Yep.” Steve took a longer drink. 

“And you still babysit for him?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.” I turned back to the road. “I am seriously re-considering his judgment right now. Isn’t he the chief?”

“Unfortunately.”

I snorted. 

“Well, I better not find out you’ve been drinking while driving again, young man,” I dramatized. Steve laughed. 

“Not planning on it. That was the most embarrassing night of my life. More embarrassing than Nancy breaking up with me.”

“Right, I heard about that. And you guys are still on good terms?”

Steve shrugged.

“As good as we can be.”

We both didn’t speak for a bit, Steve sipping at the beer.

“Hey, I know I don’t understand fully what’s going on, but Jonathan does care about you. He made me promise not to tell you about what was going on. Nancy, too.” I tapped at my wheel nervously, watching him to see what his expression was.

“So Nancy knew, too. Of course.” Steve looked furiously out the window. 

“What’s going on? What’s the reason they couldn’t tell you?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Was it because you dated Nancy?”

“What? No, that isn’t why.”

“Right. Then why? Should I be mad at Jonathan?”

Steve clenched the beer, still not answering. I sighed.

“I purposefully haven’t been pushing you to figure out what’s going on, but now I’m pretty involved, I’d say. I don’t want you to be mad at me for keeping this from you, but I got to understand why. I know that I still don’t have a right to know, but I want to, okay?” I sped up a little when the speed limit changed. “I want you to tell me. Whatever it is, I wouldn’t hate you for it or anything.” I looked at Steve. He was looking down into his beer.

“Why did Jonathan and Nancy tell me not to tell you what was going on?” I asked again. Steve took in a fast, shaky breath, and I realized that he had teared up a bit.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t tell. What’s wrong, Steve?” I reached out and held his shoulder, like I had Max’s when I’d driven her home. 

“I’m a liability.” Steve glared out the window.

“Why are you a liability?”

“Because-”he stopped, “-because I can’t sleep at night, okay?” It came out fast.

“And that makes you a liability because…?” I asked, and Steve gripped the beer harder.

“Because I’M SCARED!” Steve snapped, sloshing a bit of beer around.

“Okay. Hey, It’s okay,” I rubbed his shoulder. 

“No, it’s NOT okay. I can’t fucking do shit because I’m worried something is going to happen. And guess what? Something fucking did. Something did, and there’s nothing that I could do about it.” 

“No, it is okay to be scared.”

“No, it’s not, because if I’m too scared to help, then who’ll help them?”

OH.

“The kids?”

“Yes, the kids. Shit.” Steve took a large gulp of the beer.

“You’re scared something will happen to them?” I tried to ease it out of him.

Steve shrugged.

“And that’s why Jonathan and Nancy don’t want to get you involved? Because they think it’ll stress you out?”

“They don’t know this,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, “but I was already on meds before all the shit last year started, okay? And then Nancy found out about them last month, and that didn’t help. They started leaving me out of stuff.”

“Anxiety meds?”

“No.”

“Oh.” I got it. Suddenly, Steve getting caught drinking alone at night in his car by Hopper made a lot more sense. I started to slow the car down to pull over, turning to look at him so that I could see his face better and so that he could see mine.

“Steve, I completely understand. You really don’t like being left out, right?”

Steve shrugged, refusing to look at me. He was bouncing one of his legs fervently.

“What they did was really shitty,” I added. “They should've told you, even if they thought it could stress you out.”

“Yeah.”

“Steve, they wouldn’t leave you out of it unless they were worried, right?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay.” I paused. “From what I can tell, they do care. They didn’t mean it like they didn’t want you to be involved. But, they definitely went about it in the worst way.”

Steve muttered something I couldn’t catch.

“Let me handle them tomorrow, yeah? I’ll give them a piece of my mind. You shouldn’t have to explain why you’re upset to them, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

And that was that. I moved the car back onto the road gently, letting go of Steve's shoulder, heading to the neighborhoods. I thought about what Steve had said about getting caught by Hopper and that Billy had been drinking alone in his car, too. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Which street do you live on?”

“Carlton road.”

“Oh, so you’re rich-rich?” I joked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Middle class.”

“Yeah, right. I even bet your house is the biggest one on the street.”

Steve snorted, but I caught the guilty look in his eyes.

“Wait. My car’s at the school.” He sat up straight.

“Do you want me to drive you back there?”

“If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.” I pulled a u-turn and started back towards the school. 

“Do the kids know about this?” Steve suddenly asked.

“I think it would be obvious if they did, yeah? We haven’t told anyone. Only you and Billy know now.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Steve snarked. I couldn't blame him. 

“Promise not to engage with Jonathan and Nancy before I get there tomorrow? Please?”

“I’m not gonna be mean,” he whined. I gave him a look.

“Something bad will happen if I don’t get there first, I just know it,” I grumbled. 

“Fine. I won’t talk to them.”

“Thanks,” I looked at him appreciatively. “They come up to you and you tell them that I told you not to talk to them, okay?”

“Geez, mom, fine,” Steve huffed. I laughed, then stopped.

“Oh, shit. Billy probably had at least a four pack in his car.”

“Well, fuck.”

I nodded.

“Yeah. Fuck. Damn, I hope he knows I really WILL kick his ass if I catch him drinking and driving,” I gripped the steering wheel. I looked over at Steve, eyeing the beer after I remembered it was there.

“Any left?” I nodded at the beer. Steve shook his head.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Damn.” I looked back at the road. We were fast approaching the school. 

When we finally pulled into the parking lot, there wasn’t a single car in sight but Steve’s beemer. It sat next to the school, sadly, as though it had known it had been abandoned. 

“Wait. You shouldn’t drive,” I glared at Steve, finally connecting the dots. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m not drunk, and the concussion isn’t that bad.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” I could recognize when I’d pushed too far. I rolled up to the left of the beemer, unlocking the doors. Steve opened his side.

“Fuck, I forgot my bags in Billy’s car,” he hissed.

“I think they’ll be okay, I’ll get them tomorrow?” I sighed.

Steve nodded and slid out of the wagon.

“Kia waimarie,” I whispered as he moved away. He heard me.

“What?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

Steve started to turn away.

“It means good luck,” I burst out, and he started.

“Oh. That’s really cool. What was that again?”

“Kia waimarie.” I said it louder, nervous.

“Kia why maria?”

“Close. Kia waimarie.”

“Kia waimarie.”

“Yes! You got it,” I grinned at Steve. He smiled back. 

“I’ll try to remember that,” he grabbed the car door to close it.

I felt touched. 

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you.” Steve closed the door and walked to his car, pulling out his keys from his jeans.

I watched as Steve flicked his lights on and the beemer murmured to life. Once I was sure he would be okay, I caught his eye, waved, then peeled out of the parking lot. 

I considered going back to Billy’s house, wanting to make sure he was okay, but I decided against it. He would probably get mad if I did, and who knows? He could have been drinking on Piney Lane still. 

Making my way back to my own house, I wondered if I should have pressed Steve harder to not drive.


	17. I Don't Like Wheeler Anymore

Luckily, Steve made it to school the next day, even though I’d hoped he’d take the day off. 

“They’re on me. They’re _on me,_ ” he got out, getting behind my shoulder and looking down the school hallway before class began. I looked away from my locker. Down the hallway were Nancy and Jonathan, quickly approaching. 

“Hide. Fast. I’ll take ‘em,” I whispered, and Steve nodded against my back before disappearing down a connecting hallway. God, he was adorable, hair bouncing as he avoided other students in his escape. 

Fuck.

I ignored that thought.

Nancy moved to follow him, but I slammed my locker and rested an arm against it, blocking her way.

“Where are you going?” I looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me through.” She glared up at me through her huge eyes. Her face looked even more angular from above.

“How audacious of you. I don’t think so, Wheeler. See, Steve’s upset; I’ve talked to him about it, and guess what? I think he has a reason to be upset.” I tapped my fingers against my locker.

“I need to talk to Steve,” Nancy tried again.

“Not happening until both of you-” I looked at Jonathan, “-talk to me first.”

Jonathan caught on, seeing the look on my face. He tugged at Nancy’s sleeve.

“We should talk to him first, Nancy. Please.”

“Fine,” Nancy snapped. I folded my arms.

“Let’s go somewhere else, yeah?” I gestured down the hallway. Jonathan nodded, but Nancy just muttered something I couldn’t catch, both following as I started moving down the hallway. 

Once out into the cold air again, I pulled out a camel from Billy’s pack, lighting it. Nancy watched me distrusting and slightly disgusted as I did so. I blew a few puffs before I decided to address the situation, letting them wait for me.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tapped the cigarette to get it going. “I’m going to speak first. Both of you are going to listen, and I will speak uninterrupted. Then, and only then, I might be willing to hear what you have to say. Am I clear?” I knew I was being intimidating, but I didn’t care. Nancy didn’t respond, but Jonathan nodded, so I started.

“I made the decision to trust you when you told me not to tell Steve, because you’ve known him for longer. Steve’s my friend. You both made a very bad decision in deciding to keep this from Steve.” I took a long breath. “Some of the fault of Steve’s reaction falls on me, since I ultimately decided to trust you, but that’s not going to happen again.” Jonathan looked away. “I know why you decided to leave Steve out. I get it, but it was the worst choice you could have made. Do you understand why?” 

Jonathan shook his head, but Nancy just glared at me, directly meeting my eyes. I got down closer to her before continuing.

“Wheeler. I gather by the fact that he feels remorse that Jonathan knew better, but this was your idea, wasn’t it? You don’t seem to be acting guilty enough to feel bad about it.” I tapped the camel again. “I know exactly what this is about. I don’t care what happened between you both when you were dating, or after you were dating. You don’t get to make decisions for Steve. Just because you think you care about him doesn’t make you the authority on what’s best for him. Am I clear?” 

Nancy didn’t respond again.

“Fine. Ignore me, see what happens, but if you try to do something like this again to Steve? You won’t be dealing with an angry Steve. You’ll be dealing with me.” I stood up straighter, turning to Jonathan.

“I can tell that at least you care about Steve,” I started.

Nancy gasped, scandalized, but I ignored her.

“I know that you didn’t want to keep anything from Steve, and the reasons were well-meaning. I also know that you think Steve is like you, but he’s not. He’s not as easy-going, he’s not as observant, and it’s harder for him to comprehend people’s reasons for leaving him behind. He needs structure, and he can’t be left in the dark or lied to.” I turned to Wheeler. “You should’ve known better.”

Nancy finally looked away at that. I sighed.

“You both know as well as I do that we’re his only friends, excluding the kids. Can you imagine how it feels to be lied to by all of your friends? He was tearing up last night when I drove him back. You know what he said?”

Silence.

“He said that he was a liability. He said he was scared. He said he was more worried about the kids. He would NOT have said that had you been honest with him from the beginning.”

Jonathan turned to Nancy, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean,” I spoke more quietly, “did you really think leaving someone on meds for depression alone was a good idea? And lie to them about it? Fuck, I would think it’d be obvious.”

“He got those meds because of the stress of the interdimensional shit,” Nancy growled suddenly.

“That’s not what he told me.”

“What?” Jonathan and Nancy looked up at me, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Steve’s had them since before he dated you. Jesus, I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Did you just assume that about the meds?”

Jonathan turned on Nancy.

“You told me he just started.”

“Well, I thought he had!” Nancy was getting frustrated again.

Things were starting to piece themselves together.

“So, you both decided to leave Steve out of something that would stress him out MORE if he didn’t know about it than if he was involved, and you decided to do that because you thought it was the cause of him stressing out. God, this is gold,” I bit sarcastically.

“Okay. I’m going to make something clear, and then you can go harass Steve. Steve is upset and deserves an apology. He’s especially upset because you both knew about the meds and still left him out. Steve’s not as mad at me specifically because I didn’t know. He doesn’t need your excuses, he needs you to fess up and be apologetic. Understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should apologize,” Jonathan tugged Nancy’s sleeve. Nancy huffed, but nodded.

“Okay. great. Just, don’t do this again, okay? This whole thing just reinforced his idea that he’s a liability.” I kicked at the pavement.

Nancy’s face dropped.

“Shit,” she muttered. 

“Yeah. Anyways, class is starting soon, so I’ll see you later.” I turned and walked back into the building, not waiting for them. 

I turned down the hall Steve had disappeared down, and he was leaning against the walls, waiting. When I got close, he looked up and bounced off of the wall.

“How’d it go?”

I shrugged.

“Could have been better. They should be apologizing, though. Let me know if they say some dumb shit and I’ll chew them out again, okay?”

“You didn’t yell at them, right?”

“Naw. I tried to be nice,” I assured, and Steve groaned, reaching up to twist some of his hair around his fingers. I wondered what his hair felt like.

“TRIED to be nice?” He was tugging at his hair nervously now.

“Yes, Steve, I TRIED to be nice,” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I didn’t throw them around or anything? Just a little guilt tripping?”

“Okay. I trust you.” 

I took a moment to absorb Steve’s words. 

Fuck.

He _trusted me?_

Holy shit.

FUCK.

“U-um, than-thanks?” I stammered. I couldn't remember the last time anyone said something so intimate to me. Steve dropped the hand in his hair, smiling up at me through the bits that had fallen. 

_FUCKKKKK._

I hadn't moved to hick central to crush on boys. Nuh uh.

“Right. Well, I’m off to class.” I brushed past Steve as fast as possible, ignoring the way my breaths sped up and how red I knew my face must be, ignoring the confused look on Steve’s face as I passed. 

That energy took me through the hallway without noticing anything around me. Until, of course, I froze as Steve yelled at me down the lockers.

“WRONG WAY, JAMES,” He called. 

_FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKING HELLLLL._

“You’re a fucking cunt, James,” I muttered to myself before spinning around, faking a bright smile I knew was way too enthusiastic, and moving back down the hallway painfully slowly before waving awkwardly at Steve as I passed him a second time. 

“See you later?” Steve poked at me as I passed.

“Yeah,” I hesitated a second before leaving him, barely remembering to retrieve my shit from my locker before practically running away.

_God damn, of all the embarrassing moments in my life…._

Everything blurred together as I tried to ignore everything that was going on. Of course, that led to running into a few people, one of them someone who was trying to stop me as I sped down the hallways, gripping my class books and pencil.

“Fucking _hell,_ James. What the fuck was that for?”

I twisted, looking back.

Billy.

_Shit._

“Sorry. Uh, distracted today? _I_ am,” I rushed. “Fuck.”

Billy snorted. 

“No shit.” He folded his thick arms.

I noticed he was wearing denim on denim again.

“I hope you didn’t come to school wearing that in this weather?” I eyed the wife beater under the two layers of denim, then mentally smacked myself.

NO, James, you should absolutely NOT be looking at other guys right now. 

“I’m not cold.” Billy glared at me, tensing up a bit.

“Alright, mister hot.”

That came out wrong.

_Was I just horny today?_

Billy snickered at my face.

“Hot? That’s a little insinuating,” he loosened up. “How’s the princess doing?” 

The subject change gave me whiplash.

“Wheeler?”

“No, dumbass. Harrington. Who else?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“I can think of a multitude of people you’d call princess.”

“Only Harrington.”

_WHAT THE FUCK._

Billy didn’t seem to recognize what he’d said, so I ignored it.

“Ooookkaaayyy. Steve’s doing fine. He didn’t seem out of it at all.”

“He’s not still mad at you? Or the freak and Wheeler?”

“He’s still mad at Byers and Wheeler, yeah, but not me.”

Billy dropped his folded arms, brushing them against his sides. I got a better view of his black belt.

“So.” He stopped. I waited for a second, expecting him to continue. 

“So,” He said again, gesturing with his hand for me to say something,

“So?”

“So, what the fuck was last night?”

“OH.” I clutched my books closer. I tried to think about what to do. I could ask him to meet up at lunch, but then I’d have to break my promise to meet with Jess, Ethan and Edward. I could give him a watered down version between classes, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate the holes in the story. 

“Want to skip?” I offered. Billy’s eyebrows rose.

“Didn’t think you were the type, James,” He teased. “Sure.”

Billy led the way to my locker. It took me a bit to remember that he knew where it was; after all, he’d dropped the camels in on valentine’s. I still had no idea why he’d done that.

When we passed my locker, we stopped briefly to put my books back. I’d only be missing English, right? No problem. I just shouldn’t miss maths. At my locker, I grabbed my leather jacket. When he saw it, Billy eyed me approvingly, but didn’t say anything as we walked out of the school together. 

I walked over to my wagon, Billy following, both of us sitting on the hood. I didn’t put the jacket on, just setting it on my lap, feeling awkward for dragging Billy out in the cold in his denim ensemble. Instead, I pulled out the leftover camels from Billy. 

“Want one?” I held one out. Billy nodded and took it from my fingers. Pulling my lighter out, I lit Billy’s first, then lit my own.

“This is going to be a long story that I don’t have all the pieces to, alright? Even so, I’ll try to answer any questions to the best of my ability.” I breathed out a long, steady stream of smoke.

“This started a year ago, from what I’ve gathered from Jonathan and Wheeler. That’s when Holland died. I don’t have any specifics to what happened then, but I know that something happened to Will Byers. Have you heard about that?”

“Heard he went missing,” Billy grumbled around his fag. 

“Yeah. After that, something similar happened again with the interdimensional shitfest that occurred in October. I think. That’s what I know the most about.” I took in another breath of smoke, holding it in my lungs for a while before letting it out. “What’s been happening is that there’s these monsters- don’t fucking look at me like that,” I growled, as Billy laughed at me. “These things have been popping in through a gate to another dimension. The kids Steve’s around were involved. They named them after these D&D characters. It’s cheesy as hell.” 

Billy almost dropped his cig. 

“What kids.” He suddenly stiffened.

“Byers, Henderson, Sinclair,” I didn’t fail to notice Billy’s glare at that name, “Wheeler, and-” I paused, gauging his reaction.

“Maxine.” Billy said her name as a whisper.

“Yeah.” I let out a sigh. 

Billy growled, but loosened up again. I saw something change in his eyes as he looked out at the parking lot, almost like he’d lost something.

“The kids found the interdimensional things first from what I’ve heard, wreaked a lot of havoc, and then got everyone else involved. They call the other dimension the ‘upside-down’, but I think Steve said it’s really called the Nether? Not sure about that. Right now, there’s some of these things left over. They can eat people, are attracted by blood, and drag their prey into the other dimension to eat them. That’s what happened to Barbara Holland. That’s most of what I know.”

“So, this Holland girl isn’t missing?” Billy gaped, just a little. 

“Nope. Dead, for sure.”

Billy whistled and looked away.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Steve’s mad because Jonathan and I didn’t tell him we were going to go off and try to control the demogorgon population by ourselves.”

“What the fuck?”

“Eh.” I shrugged. “We’re not sure how many are out there, but there seems to be a lot left over. I’ve been taking most of them out, I think. They’re in varying stages, some less dangerous than others, which means they might be repopulating, or something. Not a fun notion.” I blew out smoke. “The scars on my arm? Twice? That’s from the upside-down things.”

“Shit, really?” Billy looked a little overwhelmed, but he was taking it better than Steve, surprisingly.

“Yep.” I tapped my fag against my leg. “By the way, I’ve gathered from the kids that something was going on with the interdimensional shit the day you beat the hell out of Steve, so there’s that, too. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I figured you didn’t know that?” I looked at Billy inquisitively. 

Billy glowered, not saying anything.

I shrugged.

“I’m guessing whatever happened was both Steve’s fault and yours. I’m not gonna blame either of you, but I’ll say it again, Steve blames himself for what happened. Even if everyone else seems to think it was all you.” 

“Fuck off that, would you?” Billy said in a funny voice, kicking his legs around the side of my wagon.

“ _Kai hamuti,_ I’m not gonna let up,” I snorted, before realizing what I’d done. In a split second, I’d forgotten we were in America, and that Billy wasn’t one of my friends from back home. 

“What?” Billy had a weird look on his face.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

“...” I stared at him.

“You’re Maori, right?” Billy butchered the pronunciation.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, apprehensive.

“So was that Maori? Like, the language?”

“You didn’t hear anything.”

“I sure as hell did.” Billy took his cigarette out of his mouth and held it in his fingers.

Why was Billy being so insistent?

“Fine. It was. Happy?” I glared at him, puffing out some smoke.

“What did it mean?”

“Eat shit.”

“No, really,” Billy crossed his legs.

“No, _really,_ ” I mocked.

Billy stopped.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Really.” I took a breath from my fag.

Billy started laughing. It was contagious, lighthearted, and enthusiastic; very different from how he laughed in the hallways. I laughed a little with him, smoke coming out with my laughter.

“You speak a different language?” He grinned. “That’s kind of cool.”

“Kind of. I’m not super fluent, but Maori is making a comeback after being banned in schools for forever,” I admitted.

“Shit. Banned?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you don’t use it here?” Billy looked up at me slightly from his dark, long lashes.

“Not exactly anyone to speak it with,” I gestured to the empty parking lot dramatically. “Don’t wanna get hate-crimed, either,” I muttered, but Billy caught it.

“That’s shitty.”

“Yeah. I’ve got plenty of other things to be discriminated against other than speaking another language.”

Billy didn’t respond, looking away, taking another lung full of smoke. I watched his jaw clench a little, obviously and desperately trying not to say something. I wondered what he wasn’t saying.

I wondered why I was telling him this. At least he wasn’t disagreeing, or otherwise making it worse. Although his reaction to speaking another language was different than Steve’s, it wasn’t exactly bad, although clearly more aggressive. 

Abruptly, there was noise approaching from the other side of the parking lot. Billy and I watched as Tommy Hagan and Carol rolled up to the school in Tommy’s convertible. I couldn't tell what model it was from where I stood, but I knew that it was nearly as expensive as Steve’s beemer. Carol was upset; whining something about her hair, because of course Tommy had to drive the convertible with the top down in the winter. I wondered why they were late until I saw Carol buttoning the top two buttons on her blouse. 

“God, what does she see in him?” I chuckled quietly as they approached, and Billy looked at me.

“You into Carol?”

“No. You’re not the first to ask, but no. Tommy’s just a dick. I like Carol as a friend,” I mumbled, suddenly tired. I realized that I’d been talking a lot today, much more than usual, and my throat was getting sore from it. 

Carol saw us first when they approached. She smiled, waving at us with one hand while quickly trying to fix her hair with the other.

“Hey, James! Billy!” Carol grinned, and Tommy looked up, then smirked. He fucking smirked. 

“You skipping?” He slinked up to us, Carol in tow.

“Yeah.” Billy’s demeanor changed a little when he replied. It was small, but I noticed; his eyes got smaller, shoulders rolling back just a bit, posturing. I tried not to laugh at him. 

“Hey, what happened yesterday, you’re not mad, right? Eye for an eye,” Tommy assumed, straightening a little. He was wearing one of those stupid looking striped polos. Billy glared at him, only tapping his cigarette.

“I wasn’t the one with the bloody nose, so no, I’m not mad,” he smiled, but it was cold. 

Carol’s smile dropped, and she grabbed Tommy’s arm when he was about to respond, a dark look on his face. Tommy stopped, looked at her, then shrugged it off, visibly upset. I wondered what was going on. 

“James,” she turned to me, quickly distracting from the previous subject. “You both did great last game. Your ankle okay? It looked bad,” she fussed a bit. 

“I’m good. Ankle’s still swollen, but mostly just sore.” I was surprised she remembered. I was surprised anyone remembered.

“If you're sure,” she bit her lip. 

We all stiffened a bit as the bell rang for the end of the period, listening as the chatter of students began to permeate from the closed doors to where we congregated.

“You talk to Jess recently?” I asked Carol. She shrugged.

“Haven’t had much time,” she clutched her bag. “I know you had an argument with Edward?” She raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit.

“Just Edward? Though I pissed off all three of them.”

“From what Jess told me, it’s just him that was a little miffed. It sounded like it was his fault, anyway,” she laughed. “What-”

Someone rushed up, interrupting what Carol was going to say next.

Could you guess who it was? I bet you could.

It was Steve.

“James,” he got out, then looked around and noticed the company I was in. He stopped, stood up straighter, then stopped again.

“Edward found me and told me you missed English. What gives?” Steve had his hands on his hips, glaring at Billy and I. Some of his hair was coming down in his eyes.

“Going over last night?” I offered, nodding at Billy. Steve dropped his arms.

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Steve seemed put out, confused. 

“Stevie…” Tommy murmured, an evil grin on his face. Steve winced a little at his voice. I wondered if it was because of the nickname.

“Princess, you skipping?” Was Billy trying to distract Tommy from attacking Steve? No one will ever know.

“A little birdie told me you had to fight drunks to win,” Tommy continued, ignoring Billy. 

“Man, leave it. You punched first, and you sure as hell deserved it,” Steve suddenly got the balls to step up, louder and taller.

“Oh, so then I was justified when I beat the shit out of you?” Billy grumbled. I punched his shoulder. Steve didn’t even acknowledge Billy, just staring back at Tommy.

“Now is not the fucking time,” I hissed, watching Steve and Tommy. Billy grunted, folding his arms and putting his fag back in his mouth and blowing a few, letting the smoke come out of his nose like a cartoon bull.

“Really, Stevie?” Tommy walked up to Steve and got in his face, even though he was shorter. “Sounds like you knew you couldn’t fight me in a fair match, yeah? Picked an easy fight? Not very moral of you, Stevie. Thought you were all about morals, dating the Wheeler bitch, huh, Stevie?” Tommy grabbed Steve’s zipper, zipping it down jeeringly. Steve just looked down at him, unbothered.

“You really can’t take your alcohol, can you-” Steve started, but Carol interrupted.

“- _Tommy,_ let’s go,” She tried. I felt bad for her. Tommy ignored her again, dropping Steve’s zipper and getting even closer to Steve’s face.

“You gonna walk away from this fight? Because you know you can’t win?” Tommy hissed, and Steve scrunched his nose, disgusted.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Billy said, rolling his eyes. Tommy looked over, surprised.

“The fuck? You with this-” he shoved Steve’s shoulder, “-piece of shit?”

“I’m not with you.” Billy’s words came out cold again, and I looked at him, eyes slightly wider. Tommy looked a little freaked out, then angry, like he had at Friday’s practice.

“So, that’s it, huh?” Tommy suddenly said, cool, anger turned to Billy. Then, he leaned sharply back to Steve, brows furrowed. “Eighteen years I’ve known you and you still need people to fight your fights for you, Stevie,” He growled. All five of us knew the implications of that phrasing, and Carol looked away when Steve did, both of them obviously going through some hard feelings. 

“That’s what I thought.” Tommy laughed darkly at Steve when he didn’t respond, shoving him again. “You gonna need someone to save you, huh, _princess?_ ”

I saw Steve raise his hand slightly, but it stopped when Billy jarringly stood up, dropping his cigarette. 

“That’s it, Hagan.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, but it didn’t need to be loud. Tommy froze when he heard the change. All of us could read Billy’s body language; his legs were grounded, his arms at his sides, but obviously ready and slightly raised, his shoulders squared.

That was my que to do something.

“Alright.” I stood up, setting my leather jacket down on the hood, towering over them and stepping next to Billy. “Pissing contest is over. Hagan, you should leave,” I gave him a look, and Tommy steeled, before Billy spoke again.

“Fuck off, Hagan, before I do something that gets us all suspended.” 

Tommy looked indignant for a few seconds before grabbing Carol’s arm.

“Fine. I see how it is, Hargrove,” he sneered. “Feel free to sit with the losers at lunch.”

Billy snorted, but didn’t respond. For some reason, what Tommy had said made me think about Steve, and where he sat at lunch. I had no idea what he did.

Steve leaned against my car, and Carol covered her face, embarrassed, before Tommy dragged her off towards the school.

“Jesus, I feel bad for her,” I muttered, sitting back down and breathing through my fag again. Billy turned, as though to sit down with me, before realizing that sitting meant being next to Steve. Instead, he moved around me, sitting on my other side. I caught Steve looking at him funny.

“Yeah. Carol isn’t that bad.” Steve stopped. “Tommy didn’t used to be, either, but he got worse after Nancy. I dunno what happened.” He looked at his hands. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You dropped toxic people. Everyone reserves the right to do that, regardless of how long they’ve known each other.” I tried to ignore the urge to touch him like I had the night before, remembering what I’d been thinking this morning. I chose to look out over the parking lot contemplatively. 

All three of us were quiet for a bit. 

“Want one?” I pulled out the camels again, offering them to Steve, before remembering. “Shit. Right, you don’t do camels,” I pulled them back. “I got Pall Malls in the car, want one of those?”

“I’m good. Thanks.” Steve zipped up his jacket, undoing Tommy’s work. I heard Billy snicker at him a little, but he didn’t make fun of Steve, for once. I offered the camels to Billy.

“Want another?” 

Billy got a funny look on his face, like he was smug, before shaking his head confidently.

“Naw, I’ll just steal some of yours, yeah?” He snatched the fag from my mouth and took a few puffs of it, maintaining eye contact with me. It felt like the whole chocolate thing all over again, even thought I KNEW it wasn’t the same thing. I watched his lips work around it.

Fuck.

“Alright, that’s enough. Leave some for me.” I took it from his lips, but Billy held on for a split second, holding the cig tight between his grinning teeth. 

_Fuck._

I grabbed it back, looking away fast as Billy watched me. I looked at Steve, wondering if he’d seen, but he was looking off into the distance, a dark look on his face. 

“Fuck. I’m missing maths,” I laughed, trying to ignore my quickening pulse. Billy looked away into the parking lot. All three of us stared at nothing, sharing an odd moment I knew wouldn’t repeat itself. Ever. 

We stayed like that, all of us skipping until lunch. Eventually, Steve stopped leaning on the wagon, getting up and muttering something about having to talk to Jonathan and Nancy. After watching him leave, I looked at Billy, catching his eye.

“I’d better meet with the trio. Promised to.” I smudged my cig against my jeans. Billy looked away, nodding sharply. I thought about what Tommy had said about lunch.

“Uh, want to join?”

Billy looked at me, eyes widened exaggeratingly. 

“Really?” He sarcastically bit out. I shrugged.

“It’s open. Even if you don’t want to today, you can whenever.” I ignored Billy’s snort and spun off my car.

“See you later. Unless?” I wiggled my eyebrows. Billy laughed, but it wasn’t the same carefree laugh from before as he got up from my wagon’s hood. 

“Maybe another time. See you.” And with that, he was stalking off to his own car. I watched as he pulled out his keys before turning back the building. 

Lunch was awkward, but that was expected. Once the ice was broken, we were nearly back to what it was before, Edward being as obnoxious as ever and Ethan trying to stop him from saying offensive shit, Jess laughing uproariously at everything Edward did. It was the distraction I needed; I didn’t think about Steve or Billy for most of lunch, only a little concerned about how Steve’s conversation with Jonathan and Wheeler was going when Edward was saying dumb shit.

It was nice. It felt like the day was almost normal, even with the class skipping.

Of course, I hadn’t known they’d call home about the skipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, I figured out how to use italics. Finally.


	18. I Wish Max Was Okay

Coach Riley sent Steve and I home from practice immediately. He was even waiting by the gym doors to tell us to shove off, not giving us the opportunity to enter the gym. He gave us an earful about practicing injured before we left. Practice tomorrow was off limits to us, too, but Steve and I were expected back thursday to check in before the friday game. We went back to the locker rooms disappointed, not wanting to get out of our basketball clothes, wishing he’d told us to leave before we’d changed. 

“I hate missing practice,” I grumbled to Steve as I kicked my nike shoes off. 

“Right? I feel _fine,_ I can’t imagine why I can’t play,” Steve huffed, sitting down on my bench heavily. 

“Okay, well a concussion is a different story than a twisted ankle,” I rolled my foot for emphasis. “Who knows when you might keel over?”

“Big talk from the guy who didn’t get an x-ray like the coach asked.”

“Yeah, right. Like how you drove yourself home? God, I should not have let you do that,” I mumbled, frustrated as I pulled my shirt off. Steve just glared at me. I looked pointedly at him. “You know as well as I do that you shouldn't have driven home. Fuck, and you had that beer, too. That makes me responsible.”

“It wasn’t even a full beer! You also have that gross burn on your back still, don’t think I didn’t notice.” 

I didn’t get to respond. The locker room doors slammed open, and an angry (and shirtless) Billy Hargrove came rushing in. 

“Fucking _hell,_ ” Billy growled, throwing his shirt across the room.

“You good?” I called, wondering why the hell he wasn’t at practice. Then, his body poked into view from behind the lockers.

Oh.

Billy’s shoulder was wrecked from the demogorgon. He walked around the locker row, kicking at an open door as he approached.

“No, I’m not fucking good,” he hissed. I tried not to laugh at his hurt face because I’m pretty sure both Steve and I knew what had happened.

“Why not?” I antagonized, leaning against the lockers. 

“Coaches told me to go home because of my goddamn shoulder. It’s not even that bad!” Billy practically pouted, body slamming into the lockers. It was adorable. 

“Join the party,” I offered, patting the bench on my side away from Steve. Billy moped his way over, heavily sitting on the bench like Steve had. 

“All we need now are some beers,” Steve joked, and I elbowed him.

“Absolutely none for you. I’m having a hard time convincing myself to let you drive home again,” I eyed him, and Steve elbowed me back. I paused. “Wait. Are you driving the kids around today?”

Steve shrugged. 

“Picking them up from the arcade,” he admitted.

“No. Not happening. Can you believe this guy?” I turned to Billy, and Billy leaped at the opportunity to tease Steve.

“Think I’d let you drive my step-bitch around concussed, Harrington? Think again.” He leaned back into the lockers with me, and even though he sounded serious, his eyes were glittering, his lips twisting into a grin. Steve glared and scooted away from us like we were in kindergarten. 

“Aw, you do care!” I poked Billy’s side.

“No, I do not,” he defended, sitting up straighter. 

_Look at us, three shirtless, injured guys acting like elementary-schoolers._

“Fuck off,” Steve kicked me, and I looked up.

“Did I say that out loud?” My face heated.

“Elementary-schoolers? Yeah.” Billy leered from my left.

“Well.” At least Billy’d focused on the elementary-schooler part. “Whatever. Billy, you sure your shoulder is fine?” I looked down at him, changing the subject. I could see it closer from where he was sitting next to me on the bench. It didn’t look awful, and I could tell he’d done something to it, but it looked at least as bad as my arm had a week or two ago.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Had worse.” Billy looked like he’d shrunk a little bit. I knew what that meant; I, too, felt uncomfortable with that kind of attention. 

“Stop acting like you didn’t get an x-ray like you were supposed to, dumbass,” Steve grumbled away to my right. I rolled my eyes.

“My ankle is fine. I walked it out plenty yesterday.” It was, in fact, still swollen and still hurt like a bitch, but I wasn’t gonna tell them that. “What, like you shouldn't've gotten an MRI scan for brain injury?”

“What’s an MRI?” Steve perked up.

“Oh my god.” I put my head in my hands. “You are such a dipstick.”

“Ummm…” Steve trailed off, and I looked at him.

“No. No way,” I gave him a look.

“What’s a dipstick?” Steve asked anyway, scooting closer.

“Holy shit. No way,” Billy laughed to my left. 

“ _PLEASE_ tell me you check your oil?” I pleaded to Steve, and he just shrugged, confused.

“God, your poor BMW,” Billy groaned. 

“Steve. The dipstick dips into your oil to check it.”

“Oh. I’ve never checked my oil.”

“Jesus, you can’t just _ADMIT_ that,” I wrung my hands, then stood up. “We’re checking it. Right now. You could ruin your car, Steve. Fuck. How long have you had it?” I put my shoes back on.

“I dunno, like three or four years?”

“Have you ever brought it to a shop?”

“Twice. Why?”

“Holy fuck. We’re checking it NOW.” I got up, found mine and Billy’s shirts, throwing Billy his before jumping to my bag and throwing warmer clothes on as fast as I could. Steve reluctantly stood up and followed suit, Billy awkwardly following after Steve.

“You’re coming too,” I jabbed at Billy as I stuffed my gym clothes in my bag. 

“Why the hell do you need me?”

“I know for sure you know a hell of a lot more about cars than I do, mister camaro.” I shouldered my bag, Steve and Billy reluctantly repeating my actions.

I practically ran out to the parking lot to find Steve’s poor car. When I reached it, I grabbed the hood.

“Steve, hurry. Lift the hood latch,” I called to Steve, who was just leaving the building. 

“It’s not like it can’t wait a few seconds?” Steve called back, miffed.

“I don’t care, Steve, I feel like I’m gonna forget if I wait a few seconds. Get your ass over here.”

Steve grumbled his way over, pulling out his keys. The BMW chirped to meet him happily, like it was unaware of Steve’s abusive ways.

“Please tell me you know where the latch is,” I sighed when Steve fumbled around in the car for too long.

“Nope.”

“Billy, help him?”

“Fucking hell.” Billy sauntered over unhappily. He found the latch within seconds, and I popped the hood open immediately, patience dissipating just in time. 

“Here we go. Steve, get over here.” I waited for Steve to get out and walk over (painfully slowly), then gestured generally to the inside of the car. 

“Tell me where you think the oil is.”

Steve shrugged, pausing a moment before pointing abstractly at the engine.

“Fuck. Okay, Steve, do you know what the symbol for oil is?” I tried as hard as I could to make sure I didn’t sound too stressed or angry, not wanting Steve to feel too stupid. Just a little stupid.

“No,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Okay. It looks like a genie lamp that's dripping. Do you think something like that might light up whenever you start the car?”

“A few things light up.”

“Does an oil lamp stay lit while you drive?”

“.... maybe,” Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Okay, that’s fine. That symbol is in red, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Symbols in red mean they’re more important, or dangerous left unchecked. They only light up when they need help. The dipstick hoop to your oil should be in yellow, orange or red, do you think you can find it?”

Steve bent over a bit, looking around before he spotted it. When he found it, he didn’t say anything, just pointed.

“Yeah, Steve, that’s it.” I looked over at Billy, who was standing next to the propped up hood, his face in his hands. I was just happy he wasn’t saying shit about Steve’s lack of car fluency. It meant he was trying, right?

“Okay.” I grabbed the top of the dipstick and pulled just a bit out. “To check the oil, you check how dirty the dipstick pulls out.”

Billy snorted at that.

“Pun not intended. Fuck off, Billy,” I muttered, pulling the dipstick out further. “The oil is pretty messy, so I’d use a towel or something you don’t car about to check it, not your hands. Don’t want to ruin your expensive clothes. For the sake of how dangerous this is, I’m just gonna use my hands.” I ran a finger lightly on the end of the dipstick, then pulled it away and held it up for Steve to see. “See that? That’s disgusting. I can’t imagine how old this oil is.” I could, of course, imagine, based on what Steve had said, but I didn’t remind him it had been years since he’d done anything about it. “Normally, it would pull away much lighter than this.” I stopped. “I’m not going to show you how to change it, because I don’t have oil to change it with on me right now, but you should definitely get your car to a shop as soon as possible. How many other lights are on?”

Steve shrugged.

“Okay. The tire pressure light is probably on,” I guessed, “maybe the check engine light. Hopefully not the brake lights.”

I thought for a moment, grateful that one of my uncles had taught me a little about cars. My dad had never bothered. I wondered if Steve’s dad had never bothered either, or if he was even around. Thinking about that, I definitely didn’t want to shame Steve about not knowing what a dipstick was.

I looked up at Billy.

“Could you give it a quick look over? Just make sure he’s not going to die on the way home?”

“Sure.” For once, Billy was being helpful, and he stepped around Steve to look into the engine. 

“If you want to know more about how to make sure the car doesn’t run into the ground, you should ask Billy, since he knows more,” I told Steve, stepping away from the hood to let Billy get a better look. 

“Don’t push it, James,” Billy grimaced from inside the hood. I snickered down at him as he bent over, but stopped when I saw his ass. 

_Nope._

I turned back to Steve, sitting on the edge of the open hood, Steve following suit and leaning against it as well.

“What was it you said last night?” He asked suddenly, and I moved my hands to the edge of the car.

“What do you mean?”

“That thing, in Maori.”

I looked over nervously at Billy, but he didn’t react, only poking at something by the engine.

“Good luck?” I asked, turning back to Steve.

“Yeah. Can you remind me how to say it?”

“Kia waimarie.”

“Kia waimarie,” Steve repeated. 

“Yep.” I clicked my fingernails on the edge of the car. I needed to cut them.

“That’s really cool. Can you tell me something else?”

“Tell him what you told me earlier today,” Billy interrupted. 

“Kai hamuti. Basically means eat shit,” I grinned at Steve. He laughed. 

“Kai hamuti?” He tried.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I laughed back, kicking my legs a bit. I accidentally kicked Billy. He froze, then stopped to look up at me and glare

“Kai hamuti,” he glowered, in perfect Maori. Then, he broke out into a grin, laughing like he had before Tommy had shown up. I smiled back.

“I should give you some more swears,” I kicked him again, but more gently. Billy chuckled, turning back to the car. I watched him, watching his nose crinkle when he smiled. His nose looked familiar.

“Billy, your nose almost looks Maori from the front,” I pointed at my own nose. Billy tilted his head up at me.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’d almost say you had some in you.”

“That would be cool,” he grinned innocently. I turned back to Steve.

“Do you want to learn something else?” I expected him to turn it down, but he nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah. Can you teach me some swear words?” 

He looked so cute, I couldn’t say no.

“Alright. Try this one: pōkōtiwha.”

“Fuck. Um, poko- what?”

“Pō-kō, ti-wha.”

“Pō-kō-ti-wha?”

“Yeah, try it faster.”

“Pōkōtiwha.”

“Yes!” I smiled. “That one’s my favorite. It’s close to bastard.”

“Nice,” Steve grinned. 

“Pōkōtiwha?” Billy perked up from the car again. 

“Perfect,” I told him, giving him a thumbs up. “Can you remember the others I said?” I asked Steve, and we worked through the three words/phrases.

A few minutes later and Billy was standing up, closing the hood behind him.

“Your car is a mess, Harrington,” he raised his eyebrows, “but it should run for a few months before it breaks down or anything. You should still give it to a shop well in advance. Hell, change the oil as soon as possible.” He brushed his hands together, and I noticed they were covered in grease.

“I’m serious about picking up the kids,” I reminded Steve, noticing that he would probably leave soon. “Even if I just take some of them home, it’s better than you dropping each one off.”

“I can take Max back,” Billy helpfully suggested. 

“You always take Max,” Steve snorted.

“Then I’ll take another one, too!” Billy growled. 

“You’re both idiots. I’ll take Lucas and Will like last time?” I offered to Steve, and he nodded. 

“Yeah. Hargrove, just stick to Max. I’m not sure I could force any of the others into your camaro if I tried.”

Billy rolled his eyes, but nodded. 

“I’m going to head over now.” And with that, he was off. I looked at Steve.

“Well, that was fun. Hope your car survives the drive over. Kia waimarie,” I gave him a little smirk as I followed after Billy, breaking off to find my car. 

Somehow, Steve got out of the parking lot faster than Billy and I, but Billy got to the arcade first. I hadn’t doubted he would. When I pulled up, having followed the speed limit, I found Steve had parked dangerously close to Billy. I figured it was to piss him off. Both of them were sitting on the hoods of their cars, Billy pulling out a fag. I pulled up on Billy’s other side, getting out and sitting on my own car hood.

“Can I bum one?” I asked as I sat, gesturing to Billy’s camels. He frowned a little, then tossed the box at me. 

“Thanks.” I pulled one out, passed the box back, and pulled out my own lighter. Steve looked over at us, disgusted as we smoked, and folded his arms.

“I hope you don’t smoke with the kids in the car.”

I shook my head, but Billy just postured higher, trying to look down at Steve, who was slumping. 

“I do whatever the hell I want, princess.” I could tell he was grinning wildly at Steve, even though his back was turned. The look on Steve’s face told me that I should probably get between them. I got up, walking around Billy, to sit on Steve’s BMW’s hood with him. Neither of them spoke for a while. 

All of us looked up when we heard the chattering of the kids coming out of the arcade. 

“Lucas, Will? James is taking you home today,” Steve called. 

“How come?” Dustin walked over to us.

“Got a concussion, and James is taking a few stops off my hands because he doesn’t want me driving,” Steve whined. I got up, putting out my cigarette while walking over to my own car.

“Only if you kids want. Coming?” I swung my keys as Will and Lucas turned off from the group and followed me, although Lucas seemed more reluctant.

“What the fuck is on your hands?” Max grimaced when she noticed Billy. 

“None of your fucking business, dipstick.” He looked over to me and smiled. I caught the joke, smiling back. 

“See you all later?” I didn’t wait for a response as I ducked into my wagon, closing the door behind me. Lucas raced into my passengers seat, leaving Will in the back.

“More cars means more front seats,” Lucas grinned at me.

“Are you even old enough to sit up front?” I teased, and Lucas scowled, but Will giggled a bit from the back. 

“Okay. Lucas, I’m assuming your house is closer, right? You’ll have to give me directions.” I turned the car on. When Lucas didn’t put his seatbelt on, I gave him a look. “Seatbelts,” I reminded him, putting on my own. Lucas reluctantly followed suit.

“Do you live closer to the Hendersons or the Wheelers?” 

“Closer to the Wheeler’s.”

“Sounds good.” I pulled out of the parking space, watching as Billy did the same. Steve was arguing with Mike about something before he turned to pull out as well.

“I dunno where the Wheelers live, which neighborhood?” 

“Maple Street, same as my house.”

“Neat, I think I know where that is.” I turned down in that direction. 

It was awkwardly quiet for a few moments.

“Did you guys have fun at the arcade?” I tried, rolling my fingers on the wheel.

“It was okay. Dustin got pretty close to beating Max’s score on Dig Dug,” Lucas attributed. 

“Max holds the highest score?”

“Yeah, she has the scores on a lot of games. Mad Max,” Lucas grinned.

“That’s really cool. You guys have favorite games?” I made a turn into a neighborhood.

“Dragon’s Lair is pretty cool,” Will spoke up.

“I like Galaga. It’s cool, like Star Wars,” Lucas added. 

They were definitely nerds.

“Dragon’s Lair? Kinda like D&D,” I looked back at Will through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.” 

That was all I got out of him.

“Does the whole group like Star Wars?” I asked Lucas. He shrugged.

“I mean, who doesn’t?”

“Good point. Do you have favorite episodes?” 

“ _Return of the Jedi is pretty rad_.”

“Yeah, the ewoks are cute.”

“I like _The Empire Strikes Back_ ,” Will spoke up from behind.

“How come?”

“Yoda is still alive in it, and he’s cool.”

“Yoda is pretty cool.”

“I’ve got a Yoda figurine in my room,” Will added quickly.

“Sweet. I have a lightsaber hilt somewhere, but it’s boxed away from moving, I think.” I thought about how much of my stuff was still locked in the garage.

“Who’s hilt do you have?” Lucas sat up, interested. 

“Darth Vader’s. His looks the coolest.”

“What? But they don’t make specialized hilts like that,” Will pointed out.

“Made it myself. Even did some soldering. You have no idea how many times I had to watch the movies to figure out how to make it look the same,” I looked intensely at Lucas.

“How did you make it?”

“Metal piping, a few odd pieces from around. Made a collection of odd metal parts, painted pieces black for the black casing on Vader’s.”

“Tubular,” Lucas grinned.

“I have no idea what the hell that means,” I looked at him funny.

“Nevermind. Is Vader your favorite character?”

“Naw, I like Lando.” I didn’t want to tell him why I liked Lando.

“But he’s a traitor!” Lucas cried, and Will nodded in the backseat.

“Traitor,” Will repeated.

“He’s… he’s inventive? He got all that money somehow, you know? He has to be smart,” I scrambled. I really just liked Lando ‘cause he was hot.

“Solo’s smart, too, but he doesn’t go around betraying his friends,” Lucas huffed.

“Okay, okay, well, he wasn’t exactly best friends with Solo, was he? Plus, Solo’s kind of a jerk.” It was true. I didn’t like that Solo was a jerk. 

“But he’s cool!”

“Lando is cool, too. He has that cool outfit he wears around the cloud place.”

“Cloud City?”

“Yeah. Cloud City.”

“How do you think Lando is cooler than Solo?”

“If Solo was in his same position, he would’ve done the same thing. He was in it for the glory and money, remember?”

Lucas fell silent at that. 

“If Solo hadn’t met Luke and Leia, he would’ve been an even bigger douche. Worse than Lando. Lando was actually nice, and he was responsible for the lives of everyone in his city, remember?” I continued. Lucas thought for a moment.

“Okay, that’s a good point,” he conceded. 

“Yoda is cooler than both of them,” Will started. “Solo and Lando have nothing on him.”

Lucas and I both turned.

“Hell no, Yoda died! That’s not cool,” Lucas argued back.

“Yoda is really powerful, way more powerful than anyone else. And he’s nice; he never betrayed anyone.”

“As far as we know. He totally could’ve, I mean, why is he living like a hermit away from everyone else?” I came to Lucas’ defence, but I didn’t know why.

“Right? Wasn’t it his duty as a jedi to defend the freedom of the galaxy and shit? That’s abandonment of duty, basically betrayal,” Lucas added.

“No way. He had to hide because of Vader and the Emperor. The Empire was everywhere!” Will leaned up to us.

“So Vader and the Emperor could be more powerful than Yoda?” Lucas fought back. “Then he loses cool points.” 

“That’s not the point. The point is that he trained Luke Skywalker, and Luke won against Vader and the Emperor.”

“This might be an unpopular opinion, but I think personality is more important than power. That makes Yoda pretty cool,” I helped Will out, but they both turned on me.

“No way, power definitely matters,” Lucas told me.

“Yeah. They need to be powerful to be cool.” Will leaned back.

“That takes Solo out of the running, buddy,” I gave Lucas a hurt look, feeling betrayed. Lucas just shrugged, then jumped up.

“ _Shit._ That’s my house!” He pointed to a house that we passed a second before.

“Alright, alright.” I made a soft u-turn, pulling in front of it. 

“Have a good night,” I told Lucas as he quickly took his seatbelt off, throwing himself out of the barely stopped car. He waved, then ran to the porch. I waited to make sure he got inside before driving off.

“So, Yoda? For sure?” I confirmed, looking back at Will. 

“For sure,” he nodded. 

“Okay. He is pretty cool. Do you think he used to have a lightsaber?”

“Of course, all jedi have lightsabers,” Will folded his arms.

“Makes sense.” I opened the glove box. “Want to hop up and pick a tape?”

Will unbuckled quickly, slinking his way to the front before rebuckling and rustling around inside the compartment.

“Poi eee?” he questioned, making a face. I laughed.

“ _Poi E_. That’s a Maori track, ignore it.” 

I saw his fingers linger a bit, but he was soon rummaging around again.

“ _The Clash,_ ” he stated, finding something he liked.

“You and Jonathan, huh?” I took the cassette tape from his outstretched hand, shoving it in the car radio. 

We both sat in silence as we waited for the tape to rewind. Once it did, _London Calling_ began softly blaring from the speakers.

“Oh, right. I was going to trade a tape with your brother,” I remembered, thinking back to the conversation we’d had about punk.

“Cool.” Byers leaned back in his seat. 

I thought about the tapes in my glovebox. If I picked one out, which one would I trade with Jonathan?

Queen?

Naw.

Mötley Crüe?

Probably not.

Misfits?

I looked over at Will, thinking. Yeah, maybe Misfits.

“Hey, Will, you see a tape in there labeled _Buzzcocks_?” I had a pretty good mix on that tape. Will leaned back into the compartment, rummaging around a bit before coming out with another tape.

“Great. Pass that one on to Jonathan for me, will you? I think he might like that one.” I tapped my fingers on the wheel to _London Calling_. Byers nodded, tucking the tape away somewhere I didn’t see.

Soon enough, we were at the Byers, and Will hopped out, small frame easily slipping away from the wagon.

“See you around. Good night,” I told Will, and he softly said good night too before slinking into the house. I saw the light turn on when he got inside; someone must’ve been home.

Peeling out of Piney lane, I thought about the odd assortment of kids, then about Steve and Billy. Billy had taken the upside-down news pretty well, I decided. He was still poking fun at Steve, but he hadn’t deliberately started any fights. Steve wasn’t complaining about Billy’s presence, either, as far as I knew. It was going okay. 

I thought about last night’s game. That had gone really well, injuries aside. Steve had finally clicked with Billy, and for some reason, Billy was working with Steve, too. They’d definitely won the game for the whole team yesterday. I was really happy with the progress.

Getting home, dad’s truck was in the driveway again. I pulled up next to it, not expecting anything odd. I should have been more prepared. 

I should’ve thought about how skipping class might affect what would happen next. I should have assumed they’d call home. I should’ve not skipped maths.

When I got through the door, mum and dad were on the couch instead of at the dining table, and were looking right at me. I knew immediately something was off. Instead of acknowledging it, I bent down, pulling off my shoes and sliding my bag from off my shoulder.

“Tangaroa.” That was dad. I looked at his face; for some reason, he was smiling, but it wasn’t pleasant. 

“Want to tell your mother why you missed two classes today?”

I froze, dropping my shoes and bag.

“It must have been a mistake,” I immediately replied. 

Here’s the thing: I’m a very, very good liar, just not to people I care about. You’d find me hard pressed to lie to Steve, or Billy, or one of the kids, which is why I would fumble around a lot when I tried to avoid certain questions or had to give a white lie. With my parents? It was an entirely different story. 

“They called twice, Tangaroa. That’s not a mistake.”

“They might have marked me instead of someone else who was absent by accident? I dunno, dad, I was in class today.” 

“So, if I call your teachers, they’ll both agree that they saw you in class?” Mum spoke, glaring at me as I tried to loosen my shoulders for what was coming. I didn’t want to look guilty.

“Sure, mum. You can try.”

“Maths is an important class for you. You can’t miss that class. I know you don’t have an A+ in it,” she continued. 

“Why are you acting like I skipped? I told you that I didn’t.” Even though I was lying, I was a little hurt that they didn’t believe me. I used that emotion to convince them, letting it bleed through when I spoke. 

“We know you skipped class.” That was dad again.

“How do you know? I just told you I didn’t.”

“You skipped. There’s no way that a teacher made that mistake. You skipped, and you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” I growled. Dad stood up faster than I could follow with my eyes.

“Do not speak to me that way. I am your FATHER!” His voice boomed. I averted my eyes like I knew he wanted me to.

“Yes, sir.”

I knew that they didn’t know if I actually skipped or not. I knew that there was no way for them to know that. I could read it in their faces that they knew it, too.

“You are to go to the backyard and wait for me,” dad murmured, a dark look on his face. I knew what was coming.

“Yes, sir.”

At this point, dad just needed an outlet, and I knew that I really had been lying, so what was the point in arguing about it? Even if I’d been telling the truth, it still would’ve come up with the same result. Even if the school hadn’t called, dad would still have found a way to make what was about to happen, happen.

I took my jacket off, put my shoes back on and trudged back out the door, walking around the house to reach the backyard instead of walking through it. I didn’t want to be any closer to mum and dad than I had to be. When I got behind the house, I looked out through the dim porch light and into the farmyard, finding the wood shed. I knew he’d want me there. I knew what was coming. Feet dragging, I walked over to the stacked piles of split wood, and waited. 

Dad didn’t come out for a half hour. He liked making me wait, he liked that kind of tangible power. He didn’t comment on where I’d stood. Instead, he stomped right over, pointing to the pile.

“Pick one.”

I bent over, scouring the pile, before picking up a larger piece of wood. It was wider; harder to grasp, and wouldn’t bend like a whip, so I figured it would be best. Dad ripped it from my hands when I’d picked it up, then waited. Catching his eye, I turned around, back to him, and bent over. 

Then, it started.

As he hit me repeatedly with the wood, I thought about my choice. The small log was heavy, and sure, my dad was having a harder time gripping it, but it had some edges that dug into my back or butt with every hit. I thought about how I might avoid that in my next choice. Whenever he hit me with a flatter side, I smiled a little to myself, glad that it wouldn’t leave a bruise. When he hit the burn on my back, I winced instead, a little extra pain to spice up the dull throbbing that would fill my body. I couldn’t whimper or whine. I couldn’t cry. If I did, I knew from experience that it would just turn out worse for me, so I tuned out the pain and instead looked into the darkness of the farm. 

When he was done getting his anger out fifteen minutes later, dad threw the wood to the ground.

“Put it back where you found it,” he grumbled. Then, he made his way back into the house.

It hurt to pick up the wood, bending over further to move it back to where I hoped it had been before. Standing up straight was worse. Once I knew dad was gone, I looked back to the house.

“Okay. That wasn’t so bad,” I whistled out, then limped my way back inside, going through the back porch this time. 

Inside, mum was gone. Dad was gone, too. I figured they’d gone to bed. Taking my shoes off, I sighed, making my way into the kitchen to get some water. Drinking water was better than crying. Once I’d gotten a glass, I took it to the dining table, sitting down painfully. I sipped the cold water to distract from the pain (really, it was to stop myself from whimpering at the pain, or something just as embarrassing). I couldn’t figure out which hurt more; my feelings, or my ass? I snorted at that thought, sending water up my nose. Not able to make noise without angering my dad again, I tried as hard as I could not to cough or snort more, choking a little as I gagged. Eventually, I was able to sip that away, too. 

I was sitting at the table for ten minutes before the kitchen phone rang.

When I heard its first ring, I thought I might be mistaken. No one ever really called the house. After the second ring, I started moving to get up, rushing to shut it off before it sent angry parents down the hallway. It was painfully slow, but I forced myself to move to stop the noise. When I did, I quickly raised it.

“Hello?” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then I heard a sniffle.

“Is… is this James?”

“Max?”

“James!”

It was indeed Max.

“What’s wrong? What do you need?” My words rushed out.

“C-can you pick me up? Please?” Her voice was small. 

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, I’ll pick you up. Will you be okay till I get there? Do I need to call someone else, like the cops?”

“No, no cops!”

“Okay. No cops. I’ll be over as fast as I can, okay?”

Max was quiet for a bit, and I could hear something rustle, like she was nodding.

“Okay. See you.” I heard the click of Max hanging up right after I spoke.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, getting my ass into gear. This night wasn’t going to be about me anymore. This night was about Max, and I needed to make sure she was okay.

I grabbed my shoes and jacket, taking them to the front door before practically running out of the house. Fast as I possibly could, I unlocked the wagon, forcing my bruised body into the driver's seat before keying the ignition aggressively and pulling out of the driveway in one fluid motion, hoping my parents wouldn't care that I was leaving while in trouble. 

The ride to the Hargrove’s was stressful and painful in the dark. I sped the whole way there, hoping not to find a cop car at every corner. When I got to their house on Cherry Road, Max rushed outside, hearing my car roll up. Her face was red. She sprinted to my car, small bag in hand, wrenching the passenger door open as someone opened the Hargrove house’s front door after her. It was Susan. I noticed Billy’s camaro was not in the driveway.

“Drive. Please!” Max said fast, and I quickly gassed it, pulling away from the Hargrove house backwards before twisting around to get away. Once we turned off of Cherry Road, I looked at Max. Tears were pouring down her face. Even so, she was silent, staring straight ahead, as though she hadn’t been crying at all.

“You okay? What do I need to do?” I asked, slowing down a bit. Max sniffed, hard, but didn’t respond immediately.

“Okay. Want to get milkshakes?” I offered. Max looked out the window, but I could tell she brightened up.

“Yes,” she mumbled into the glass.

“Great.”

It was silent all the way to Tiffany’s, save Max’s occasional sniff. Somehow, I remembered it was open this late, and I was lucky it was. When we pulled into the Tiffany’s parking lot, Max smiled a little.

We walked inside in silence, too. Max had wiped away her tears, and even though her face was still red, it was hard to tell if she had been crying or not. I was grateful for that. Because hardly anyone was there, I took her up to the bar, and we sat on the silver stools, menus in hand from the kind waitress working the late shift.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked Max once we were alone. She shook her head.

“I called Steve first,” she instantaneously admitted.

“I guess he was still dropping Mike and Dustin off?” I questioned. Max shrugged.

“I guess. Dustin does talk a lot.” She stopped again. Around the bar, the waitress came out with water glasses, setting them in front of us.

“Can we get two milkshakes, please?” I asked her, and she nodded.

“What flavors?” She smiled sweetly.

“Chocolate, please,” Max mumbled. 

“Me, too,” I nodded. “Thanks.” The waitress moved off into the back again.

“You’ve got good taste,” I told Max, a gleam in my eye. She laughed a little, clutching her water in her small hands. 

“Let me know if you want more than a milkshake, yeah?” I told her, ruffling her hair a little. She smiled up at me, but it was painful. 

“So. Are you okay?” I tried again. Max tapped her fingers on the counter nervously. 

“I’m okay,” she said after a moment. “Can we not talk about it yet?”

“Sure, that’s okay. Do you like Star Wars?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucas, Will and I were talking earlier, about our favorite characters. Do you have a favorite?”

“Leia is badass,” Max grinned. This time, it wasn’t painful.

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool. I’m glad she doesn’t put up with Solo’s shit,” I chuckled. Max nodded.

“Yes! Solo is a dick, I have no idea why Lucas likes him.”

“Right? If we’re talking about assholes, Lando is way cooler!”

“Well, Lando’s not THAT cool,” Max muttered. I laughed.

“You and Lucas can agree on that, I guess. I just think he’s hot.”

I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. Max looked up at me, surprised. 

“Fuck.” I slammed my head into the bar. 

“Are you _gay_?” Max asked, loudly.

“Keep it down,” I shushed her, sitting up again. “Not really? I’m not _super_ gay.” 

“... But you’re a little gay,” Max side-eyed me.

“You can’t tell ANYONE-”

“-Yeah, yeah. Okay. It’s not like I don’t know gay people.” Max snorted.

“I’m not _gay_ ,” I repeated, and Max just rolled her eyes. “Wait, gay people in Hawkins?” 

I thought about it. It didn’t really make sense for Max to know gay people in Hawkins.

Max froze at those words.

“Uh, no? In California?”

“You don’t tell people about me, and I won’t tell people that you know gay people in Hawkins, deal?” I offered, catching her lie. It was a bad deal, but Max nodded.

“Solid. Uh, and I’m not really gay. I’m more pansexual.” I sipped at my water.

“I have no idea what that is.”

“I’d rather not explain it.”

“Okay.” She turned to her own water.

And that was that. At least, until Max felt the need to continue the conversation.

“Billy knew gay people in California, too.”

If that didn’t strike me odd, then nothing would.

“Okay? Are you telling me he’s not homophobic?”

“Oh, no, he’s definitely homophobic.” Max snorted. I wondered why she’d said that.

“Alright. Well, I’m not planning on telling him anytime soon, so-”

“-Nevermind,” Max interrupted. The waitress came over then, passing our milkshakes over the bar. We took a few minutes to dig into them. They were pretty good; I got heavily invested in mine before Max spoke again.

“Neil calls Billy a faggot.” She said it like a whisper, but it was darker, full of hate.

“Fucking hell.” I ran my hands down my face. “That’s not right. Jesus. Is that what happened?”

Max shrugged.

“It was the third time I’ve heard him say it.” She said it matter-of’-factly. It bothered me. “First time he threw Billy into a wall,” she added. 

“Shit.” I pushed my milkshake away from myself.

“I think it was just the first time I’ve seen it.” I think we both knew the implications of that statement.

“His car wasn’t in the driveway, right? Is he going to be fine?”

Max shrugged again. 

“He usually is.” She tapped her spoon lightly against her milkshake glass before digging into it again. I was hesitant to join her, thinking about what to do with all of the information Max had just given me. 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see shit like that,” I finally mumbled, pulling the milkshake back to myself. “Billy shouldn't have to deal with Neil, either. Fuck.” I reluctantly dug back into the milkshake, not wanting it to melt.

“Do you think it could be a regular thing?” Max was looking up at me with her big eyes. I had to look away.

“I hope not. Let’s hope not, yeah?” I said, and Max nodded, turning back to her milkshake. I thought for a moment, then stopped. Dad only threw shit at me if I deserved it, which wasn’t often, but Billy’s situation was probably much different, and it was a lot more likely that he got the shit beat out of him for no reason, and that was wrong.

“ _Shit_. Okay, I should be honest with you, but you’re not going to like it, and it’s not a pleasant thought, alright? I don’t want this happening to you, too. What happens to Billy probably happens a lot,” I admitted. “I can’t tell you to call the cops for Billy, but if Neil ever starts anything with you, you need to let someone know, okay? This is serious shit. _Fuck._ ” I took another gulp of milkshake, upset. 

“Billy says that too, _‘this is serious shit,_ ’” Max said, tearing up.

“Fuck. Uh, I’m sorry?”

“No, it’s fine.” It was clearly not fine, as fresh tears started making their way past Max’s freckles.

“Shit.” I grabbed a napkin, lifting it to dab it at Max’s face. Max sniffed, letting me dab at the tears without saying anything.

“Please don’t let Billy know I told you. I think he doesn’t want me to know, or anyone,” She sniffed harder, taking the napkin from me to dab at her own face. I sat there, feeling hopeless and like I couldn’t do anything to help.

“I won’t tell. I won’t let him know I know,” I told myself, knowing it would be really hard. “Do you want me to take you back, or should I take you somewhere else? Like the Byers?” For some reason, I felt like I could trust Joyce with this.

“Can you take me to the Byers? After I finish this,” Max gripped the glass tighter. I nodded.

“Yeah, sure. I can do that.” 

We finished the milkshakes quietly. I gave the waitress a tip after paying, and as quick as we could, we were on our way to the Byers. I wondered why I went there so often.

When we reached the Byers, Max got out of the car slowly. I got out slowly, too, knowing that I should probably walk up with her. Luckily, Joyce’s car was in the driveway, so I knew I’d be dealing with a protective mother instead of Jonathan, who I’d just told off. In this situation, the overprotective mother was better.

I got to the door first, letting Max catch up with me as I knocked. A minute later and a confused Joyce was at the door. 

“Hey,” I said, and Joyce looked up at me funny.

“Is there a meeting I didn’t know about?” She ushered us inside. “Will’s already in bed.”

“No, this is different. Max, do you want to tell her?”

Max shook her head.

“Alright. Max, do you want to head into the kitchen? I’ll make you cocoa,” Ms. Byers told her, and Max disappeared from sight.

“What’s going on?” She turned to me, wringing a dishcloth in her hands.

“There’s something going on at her house, with her step dad. I don’t know the specifics, but I know her step-brother is in especially bad trouble, and she doesn’t feel comfortable at her house. She asked to stay here, is that alright?” I whispered quickly. Joyce looked stunned. I knew it had been a lot of information, so I kept going. “I’m going to try finding Billy, but I don’t think I’ll be able to find him tonight. Max called me up crying, so I took her to get a milkshake first.” I winced. When I thought about it, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Fuck.” 

I started, surprised. Joyce brushed her hair out of her face, nodding as she thought.

“Okay. Don’t worry, she can stay whenever she wants. I’ll make sure she’s okay. Will her step-brother, Billy? Will he be okay?” She looked worried for him. I couldn't blame her.

“Yeah. He’ll, he’ll survive. We’re friends. I just, I just hope I find him, you know?” I started back to the door. 

“Wait,” Joyce called, reaching out and putting her hand on my back. I winced hard, pulling away fast.

“Are you okay? You don’t look okay,” Joyce hurried, and I stopped her.

“I’m fine. Whatever I look like now, I’m probably much better off than Billy. I gotta find him,” I told her earnestly. I was starting to get really worried. 

“Shit. You’re not okay. Do I need to call Hopper?”

“NO. _DON’T_ call Hopper,” I said, louder, then stopped, sucking in a breath. Max poked her head around the kitchen corner, and I waved her off. 

“I’m going to try finding him, okay? I’ll focus on him, can you focus on Max? She’s really stressed about this,” I whispered, quieter. That seemed to get Joyce.

“Okay. Good luck,” she told me, and I got out the door as fast as possible.

There were only so many places Billy could be, right?

I had no idea where to find him.

I drove around aimlessly, hoping to catch a lucky glimpse of a camaro. When that didn’t work, I started picking out places he might be, starting at the school, then the shops, then the parks. It took me an hour to think of looking at the quarry.

I nervously drove over, hoping that I wouldn’t find a dead or near-dead Billy in a camaro somewhere off the road in a ditch. 

I was ecstatic to find the camaro, perched at the top of the quarry. I was not so ecstatic to find Billy at the edge of the cliff. Regardless of whether or not I thought I could make the jump, finding someone in that position, especially after something happened, was not a good sign. 

Billy didn’t move, didn’t even spook when I rolled up behind him, shutting my lights off and barreling out of the wagon. 

“Billy,” I breathed, walking up to him, following the glow of a fag. I could smell the camels in the air. They told me he’d already smoked a shit ton.

“James,” he greeted, not turning to me.

Well, at least he was standing.

“Max called, said you might be in trouble,” I told him, trying to figure out what to say. “Are you okay?”

“Did she tell you she saw anything?”

Okay, there was no way I could lie about this.

_Sorry, Max._

“Yeah. She’s worried.” 

Billy snorted, the glow of his camel glaring a bit.

“I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I figured.” No, I did NOT figure. I was worried. Instead of reacting, I pulled out my own Pall Malls, lighting up next to Billy. “You come here a lot?”

Billy’s clothes rustled as he moved. 

“Sometimes.”

“Are you going to blow me off if I ask you something?” I braved, and Billy rustled around again.

“Depends.”

I took a second. Well, here goes nothing.

“How often does this happen?”

“First off, it’s nothing. Second, it’s only, like, a few times a week.”

“You get beat up a few times a week?” I thought about all the times I’d seen Billy shirtless and not noticed anything.

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s not that bad. Dad knows how to hit and not leave a mark.” Billy coughed on some smoke. 

“That doesn’t sound _not bad_ ,” I told him. 

“Like you can talk. It’s obvious where you got that burn from. You can’t just fall into the stove and press yourself into it for a few seconds,” Billy snarked back.

“Woah, uncalled for.” Then, “Do you think anyone else noticed?” 

Billy laughed.

“Naw. Takes one to know one.” 

“Billy, yours is different. There’s a difference between punishment you deserve and punishment for no reason. A few times a week doesn’t have a good reason.”

“Yeah? So what if I’m just a bad kid?”

I didn’t reply to that. I didn’t know how to reply.

“Didn’t think so,” Billy muttered.

“No. You’re not a bad kid,” I mumbled. 

“Yeah, right. Whatever. This conversation is over.”

_Fuck._

I felt like I was saying all the wrong things to everyone today. I wondered how many times I’d fucked up already; had I said anything too harsh to Nancy and Jonathan? Had I explained the upside-down shit badly? Had I pushed Steve too hard about his car? Had I been too awkward with Lucas and Will? _Had I reacted badly to Max?_

_I couldn’t let that get in the way of what I was trying to do, right?_

I steeled myself, facing Billy in the darkness.

“Are you injured?”

“What the hell? I’m fine.”

“I need to know. Are you? Did you break anything?”

“No. Fuck you.” Billy hissed. 

“Just need to make sure,” I mumbled again, taking a breath from my Pall Mall. 

I was desperately fighting the urge to grab him, stuff him in my car, and cart him off to home, where I could wrap him in blankets and make sure that he’d be okay for the night. _I wanted to reach out, touch him, observe every inch to make sure that-_

_Okay, that was sounding pretty gay._

I thought about how I could actually help Billy without scaring him off.

“Are you going to stay here all night?” I asked, tentatively kicking at the gravel beneath our feet. I heard something fall. It didn’t hit the water for a long time.

“No.”

“Do you need-”

“-I’ll just find some whore to sleep with. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

And fuck, if I hadn’t heard a better invitation to leave.

“Fine. Okay. See you tomorrow.”

I left. Mildly frustrated, I got back into my wagon and went back home, going to bed. I didn’t know what else to do, and hell, I wasn’t responsible for Billy. 

Even if I did feel responsible.

I didn’t sleep that night.


	19. It Isn't Getting Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't my best, and I'm sorry. It got me hung up for a while and it just isn't coming out right. For the sake of those still following along, I decided to post it anyways to get the story back on track. My apologies.

Billy was avoiding me. I was sure of it. I used to run into him all the time, even though we didn’t share a class, but I hadn’t caught a glimpse of him all day. I knew he was at school; I even asked Carol if she’d seen him, and she said she had. By the time lunch started I was actively looking for him. 

“Hey, Jess, Ethan, have either of you seen Billy Hargrove around? I can’t find him.” I sat down next to Ethan. Edward hadn’t arrived yet. 

“Nope. Did you try Carol?” Jess stabbed at her unidentifiable food.

“Yeah, but she only saw him at the start of the day.”

“That’s weird. You’ve probably checked the parking lot to see if he’s skipping or something, right?” Ethan threw some chips in his mouth.

“His car’s there, but he’s not.”

“That’s weird. He’s obviously not with the team, either…” Jess looked over at the other table, where Tommy was throwing carrots at a guy named Chris. 

I ate my food as fast as I could, eager to check the last place I figured he could be; the library. Jess caught me.

“You gonna go look for him?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, mouth full of rice. 

“Are you guys, like, friends now?”

“Kind of? It’s complicated. He’s an asshole, but also kind of a friend?” I shrugged. 

“Weird.” Ethan stuffed more chips in his mouth, crunching loudly. 

“He’s not a massive dick _all_ the time. That helps.” I ate more rice.

“Hmmm.” Jess hummed, looking at me oddly before turning back to her food.

I ate my food quickly, said goodbye to Jess and Ethan (for some reason, Edward was caught up in something else and I didn’t see him), then headed off to the library. 

I wondered if I had to sneak in. A lot of the studying tables were within view of the door, but if Billy really was hiding, then he might be at a less visible table. Opening the door slowly, I tried as hard as I could to be discreet, slipping through the doorway and slinking my way in between the shelves. It was impossibly hard to hide my tall and thick self. I had to settle for moving slowly to not gather attention, grabbing a random book to sneak around with. 

I found Billy in the very back corner of the library. He was, as I had expected, hidden well from the view of the door and most of the room, tucked away behind another psychology book. He didn’t look happy. At least he hadn’t seen me; I observed him by sticking my head between two shelves, casually hiding most of my face with a book. 

I tried to get a good look at his face; Billy was frowning at a page in his textbook, most of his face covered by the pages. I spotted a minor black eye behind them, something I hadn’t been able to see in the dark of the night before. I hoped that was all there was on his face. 

Realizing that Billy most definitely didn’t want to see me, I made my way back out of the library. I didn’t want to harass or bother Billy any more than he could handle. He obviously hadn't handled the way I went about the night before.

Something was bothering me as I walked through the hallways aimlessly before my next period. It was like a strong itch, aggressively clawing its way into my heart. Once it reached my chest, it was all I could do to stop it from climbing up my throat as a sob, contorting and suffocating as it filled me. I couldn’t ignore it. There was no way I would let the shit catch up to my face so I wrestled it down, squeezing it within me. It quickly liquified into rage. That was easier to control; rage was more acceptable, rage was easier to hide.

Billy’s comments from the night before had deeply hurt. I knew it; he probably knew it too, hence the ignoring. It was like a limb getting severed from my body. The emotion was what was now changing into anger, making me upset at his words, wanting him to apologize. It hurt a little less that way. Even so, within the hour, the rage dissipated into remorse after I realized that my thoughts had turned to anger against Billy.

Somehow, Nancy noticed I was upset today. 

We were just sitting there, working on our own chem projects, when she uncharacteristically dropped everything she was doing to turn to me.

“I can literally _feel_ your moping, Slade.” Her eyes searched mine. Even as she falsified concern, I couldn’t determine her true intent.

“I’m not moping.” I turned back to my work.

“You are. Can’t imagine why, though,” Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off,” I hissed, just quietly enough that she would be the only one to hear.

“Shut up. Cut the bullshit, James. Look at me.”

I looked up at her. I wasn’t amused.

“Does your moping have something to do with Steve?”

“What? No,” I quickly defended.

“Hargrove, then. Is he bothering you?”

“... Wheeler, don’t push me.”

“So it’s Hargrove.”

I jumped up a bit.

“Just don’t,” I glared, then looked down again. Nancy huffed next to me, but picked up her pencil again. Then, undeterred, she put it down again.

“No. I’m not letting you mope,” She glared back suddenly.

“Jesus, Nancy, you’re not exactly who I’d go to for advice or anything of the like,” I hissed, then when I saw her face, stopped. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I just-” I let out a breath. “There’s just a lot going on, okay? And I’m not at liberty to tell anyone about it. It’s not about me.”

“... Okay,” Nancy muttered quietly.

There was an uncomfortably long pause, then I sighed and dropped my work.

“... I really am sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Nancy didn’t look up, just nodded.

“FINE. I’ll tell you, alright? But I can’t tell you everything, I really shouldn’t even tell you anything-”

Nancy immediately looked up, grinning evilly at me.

“You manipulative bitch,” I growled, but smiled a bit. Nancy just sniffed.

“This whole shit with Billy isn’t rubbing me right. Everyone seems to think he’s an asshole, but he just doesn’t come across as a real one to me, you know?” I kicked restlessly under my desk.

“No, I don’t,” Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Of _course_ you don’t,” I copied her, looking up at the ceiling. “It just, it feels like a front. I _know_ it’s a front, hell, I was just like him before high school,” I admitted suddenly.

“You, liking Hargrove? I can’t imagine that.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt you couldn't see past your own biased view in any sense,” I snorted.

Nancy glared again.

“I mean, come on, Nancy, you assume a lot of things without seeing all of the facts. I can tell that even though I haven’t known you that long.”

That didn’t go over well, so I tried again.

“That’s not always a bad thing, okay? You liked Jonathan even though he’s a creepy little shit- no, don’t GIVE me that look, you know he’s my friend too- but there are some cases where that hope or mistrust can backfire, you know?”

Nancy folded her arms, but leaned back in admittance.

“Billy’s only friends are Steve and I. If Steve even counts. God, you can’t repeat this to anyone.”

Nancy nodded, looking at me funny when I called Steve Billy’s friend.

“Steve himself told me that he started the fight at the Byers. I have confirmed separate accounts of that. Of course, he doesn’t deserve the blame, but I’m trying to make a point, alright?”

Nancy shrugged. I wasn’t getting a vibe of caring from her.

“Max told me some shit and I feel like I know too much but also not enough, you know?” I gestured wildly with my hands. Nancy was looking at me funny again.

“No, apparently I don’t,” she sniffed. I looked at the ceiling again.

“There’s shit going on with Billy that I can’t tell you about, but he said some shit last night that bothered me and it SHOULDN’T have bothered me, yet I got angry and now he’s ignoring me. I KNOW full well he’d not say that shit without a reason. We’re on good terms, you know? I feel bad about getting angry.”

“What did you say? Hargrove doesn’t seem like he’d ignore someone, he’s more the bully than anything,” Nancy’s eyebrows scrunched.

“He is _not_ a bully, but yes, he’s very comfortable with confrontation,” I conceded, leaning back. “I don’t think I said anything last night. I just feel so angry, but I feel _bad_ about feeling angry-”

“-You feel bad about being angry at Hargrove?” Nancy interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

“Given circumstances that I cannot disclose, yeah, I should absolutely feel bad about getting angry over him lashing out because of something that happened to him. He didn’t even say anything mean.” _He just inferred he was fucking someone else._

“I don’t know,” Nancy couldn’t meet my eyes. “Something’s not sitting right. Not that I like Billy or think he’s a good person, but I agree that him ignoring you is weird. Not sure I agree with you moping about being angry. The ‘circumstances’ you brought up must be pretty wild for that to be reasonable-”

“-I think you and Carol could be good friends if you worked out whatever happened with Steve,” I stopped her. “Wait, no, that’s not my business. Sorry.” I looked away fast.

“Carol?” Nancy snorted, yet looked relieved at the subject change. “She’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, but she’s a funny bitch. She’s kind of cool.”

“Tommy wouldn't’ be worth shit without her. He’s only popular because he got her first out of all the horny boys in middle school. She was the first to get called ‘pretty’ in our year, you know?”

“I didn’t.” I reeled from the new information.

“She is kind of cool. Well, I thought she was, but then she said some bullshit to Steve. Wait, but she tried to stop them from fighting…” Nancy trailed off. I assumed she was talking about Steve and Tommy. 

“It’s not my place, but personality wise, you both seem like you’d work well together.”

“Yeah, maybe. If she apologized first.”

I laughed to myself in my head. Carol would probably say the same thing. They were both so similar, yet so different. 

“How’s Steve doing?”

I was starting to not like this game of baseball with changing topics.

“Fine. He’ll survive.”

“That’s not very comforting, James,” Nancy tapped her pencil against her desk.

“Well, Nancy, he’s dealing with a lot right now,” I looked at her pointedly. 

“Fine. _Fine,_ I get the point. Jeez.” She turned away.

We didn’t talk for a few minutes. With each second I expected Nancy to bother me again, but with each second I was pleasantly surprised, with the exception of wasted minutes trying to refocus on the chemistry work. The silence continued, of course, until Nancy felt like ruining it again.

“Your hair grows fast. I’m jealous.” Nancy fucking _smirked_ at me from across her desk.

“What? Are you going to tell me I need to cut it now?” I bit out. Nancy quickly shook her head.

“No. I’m going to tell you to grow it out.”

“What the hell, Nancy.”

“What? It’s in style right now, and I bet longer hair would suit you better than it does Hargrove.”

“Why the hell are we back to Billy?” I put my head in my hands. Nancy was back to doing what Nancy did best; stick her nose where it didn’t belong.

“Grow it out,” was all she responded with, then turned away a final time.

_Fuck._ Now I couldn’t stop thinking about Billy.

The rest of class I wrestled with myself to get something done. It was exceedingly difficult; I only got a half page out of the five that was expected of us. I thanked the gods that the teacher didn’t check our work. My way down the hallways, my mind drifted, leaving my legs to take me where they usually did.

The gym.

I didn’t realize it, of course, till someone grabbed my shoulder and stopped me from turning into the locker room.

“You forgot too?” The voice was light and playful, but I could sense some sadness in it too.

“Steve?” I looked up. There stood Steve.

“I can’t believe we both forgot we’re banned from practice,” he chuckled, dropping his hand. I smiled and shrugged.

“Think Billy will forget too?” Steve nervously shifted his weight.

_Oh, so it’s BILLY now,_ I laughed to myself. 

“Doubt it. He’s usually got his head on straighter than that.” I shrugged. “How’s the BMW? The concussion? Fuck, you got your arm grabbed, too, is that okay?” Suddenly remembering the demogorgon from the last game, I looked at his arm, expecting it to be a bloody mess. It looked fine, but it was hidden from view by a long sleeved polo shirt.

“Shut up, I’m fine,” Steve laughed. “Car’ll be okay, I took it to the shop last night. Got chewed out for it’s condition by the shop guys. How’s your ankle?”

I paused uncomfortably. “Fine,” I muttered, releasing a breath and dropping my tensed shoulders. Steve noticed the change.

“You look…” he stopped.

“Mopey?”

“Yeah.”

“Nancy called me mopey in Chemistry today too.”

Steve chuckled. “I bet. You hungry? We should go for food since we’ve got time,” Steve stuck his hands in his pockets. I was very glad he hadn’t asked about why I was mopey.

“Sure. Meet you at Tiffany’s?”

“Yeah.”

I started to move, then was reminded of a scene with milkshakes at Tiffany’s

“Hey, have you seen Max since yesterday?” I turned back to Steve.

“Heard she was at the Byers last night. Is she okay?”

“I was going to ask you that,” I stared at Steve. 

“Uh oh.” Steve looked at me with wide eyes.

“Listen, she’s probably okay. She just called me last night and I took her out for milkshakes, then drove her to the Byers. It sounded like she’s better off than Billy is.”

“Wha-what happened to Billy?” Steve’s voice was higher.

_Uh oh._ Steve’s eyes were wider now, and I knew that I’d said the wrong thing.

“He’s probably fine too, told me so last night. Max was just upset about something that happened to him, alright? Max is fine.” 

Steve didn’t look very comforted, but he nodded. I could tell he was adamantly telling himself not to worry.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn't let anything happen to Max, okay? I’d tell you if she wasn’t fine,” I reinforced, grabbing his shoulder. “Okay?” I looked into Steve’s eyes.

“Okay.” Steve looked away. I couldn’t tell if he believed me, but I didn’t know what else I could say.

“I’ll meet you at Tiffany’s, alright? Drive safe.” I let go of his shoulder.

“Yeah, you too. See you there.” Steve seemed to straighten a bit, like he’d come back to the present after taking a mind trip to fuck knows where. I nodded, then walked past him, hoping he’d follow shortly.

Unlike the way I’d wandered through the hallways, my mind was completely blank on the way over to Tiffany’s. It was like I couldn’t think, like I was too tired, but really I was probably trying not to think. 

I didn’t feel anything when I saw Steve at the door already, holding it open for me as I got out of my car. I barely remembered to thank him as I walked past. I couldn’t stop myself from dissociating from everything until Steve broke me out of the empty space of my head again.

“You’re still moping, James. What’s going on?”

I startled into existence, looking around. We’d already seated at a booth. Steve was sitting across from me, elbows on the table.

“Fuck, sorry. Lost in thought.” I was not, in fact, lost in thought, but I wasn’t about to tell him that I hadn’t been thinking at all.

“This is about Billy, right? What happened today?”

“Nothing, really. That’s the problem.” I knew I wasn’t being helpful but I couldn’t bring myself to think.

“What happened yesterday?”

“I don’t really know. Max called me crying, I picked her up, got her a milkshake, took her to the Byers. Found Billy by the quarry and he pretty much told me to fuck off. The usual.” I spoke fast. I really didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“I… may have seen him today,” Steve quietly admitted. “He looked like he’d gotten run over.”

“Yeah. Dumbass wouldn’t let me help him yesterday. Told me he’d just go find some whore to spend the night with instead.”

“... You’re not usually like this,” Steve eyed me oddly.

“Yeah, well, it’s not every fucking day I find out my cunt friend’s a mess and he won’t let me help.”

Steve scooted back a bit, surprised.

“Jesus. If this is how you ‘talked to’ Jonathan and Nancy yesterday, you probably scared them shitless.”

I dropped my face immediately. 

“I- I’m sorry, Steve, I just…” I couldn’t finish it. Steve nodded a bit.

“I get it. Billy’s being an asshole, like he always is-”

“-But he’s _not,_ Steve, and that’s the problem,” I emphasized. “I can’t ever say the right fucking thing with him and I-” I sucked in a breath abruptly. I needed to breathe. “-I just, fuck. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve got to ambush him to get him to listen to me, to fucking _talk_ to me. He avoided me every period today.”

“That’s not like him, is it.”

“No. It’s not.”

We were quiet for a few moments.

“Can we change the subject? Please?” I looked up at him. Steve immediately jumped into something else.

“What did you and Nancy talk about?”

“She told me to grow out my hair and not cut it again.” I leaned back.

“Shit.” Steve started laughing. It started quietly, then got louder and louder till the waitress from across Tiffany’s looked over and glared at us, but started walking over with menus nonetheless.

“Yeah, man, I can-” Steve was interrupted by the waitress dropping menus on our table.

“Drinks?” She asked curtly.

“Water for me, please.” The waitress’ nose twitched but she didn’t say anything, just nodding.

“I’ll get a coke, thanks,” Steve smiled at her. She turned, smiled at him, and wrote it onto her pad.

“I’ll get that right out for ya,” She said. It seemed like it was pointed at Steve more than the both of us, but I ignored it.

“Anyway, I agree with Nance. It would look good on you.”

“ _Nance?_ ” I asked, incredulous. 

“Shut up.”

“I’m not dropping that, does Jonathan call her that too?”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“You’re friends, dumbass.”

“Are we?”

I froze.

“Fuck. Yeah, Steve, they think you're their friend.”

“Right. That’s not what I meant to say.” Steve deflected, looking out the window by the booth.

“Is it?”

Steve didn’t answer.

Of course, the waitress found it the perfect moment to give us our drinks. We both sipped thoughtfully as we looked out the window for a good few minutes.

“What’re you eating?” I turned to the menus after a while. Steve gladly followed, picking up his own.

“Uh, I guess I’ll get a burger.”

“Hmmm.” I didn’t look up at him from my own menu.

“What? What’s wrong with burgers?” Steve sounded defensive.

“They’re just so… _American,_ ” I snickered, eyeing him over my menu.

“What’s wrong with _American?_ ” Steve was starting to get whiney.

“Oh…. _nothing,_ ” I turned back to the menu, letting Steve steam behind it.

“ _Nothing_?”

“... _nothing_ ,” I teasingly grinned at him over the paper.

“You asshole.”

“Your favorite asshole.” 

Steve snorted, but seemed to concede, looking back at his menu. After a few moments of silence, I poked him.

“Still getting a burger?” I raised an eyebrow at him. Steve sighed, exasperated.

“Yes. Fuck off.”

“I’m getting biscuits and gravy.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It’s better than a burger.”

“Fuck, no it’s not,” Steve was glaring at me now. Smiling sweetly in response, I tapped the menu.

“With the exception of the fries, burger meals aren’t worth shit and you know it. Biscuits and gravy comes with fries.” I pointed to the listing.

“... You asshole,” Steve repeated. This time, I just hummed happily, shrugging. 

Even considering our choices, we both perused the menus some more, busying ourselves with something other than our earlier topics. Our attempt at civility undermined itself when Steve began humming along to the diner’s music.

It started off really quiet, like he was trying to not let me hear. A few minutes after I heard his first note Steve was saying a few of the words. 

“Dolly Parton? Really?” I chuckled, and Steve glared.

“Dolly Parton is great,” he huffed, hiding behind his menu.

“You know Dolly Parton is creating a theme park?” I asked him, interrupting his innocent behavior.

“What? No way,” Steve dropped his menu. I nodded.

“Yeah. Read about it a while ago.” 

“Wow.” Actually surprised, Steve didn’t pick up his menu again. The waitress seemed to notice, rushing over with her pad and pen.

“Ready to order?” She asked Steve. 

“Burger and fries.”

“Got it.” The waitress wrote it onto her pad quickly.

“I’ll get biscuits and gravy,” I set my menu down as well. The waitress stopped, looked at me, and held her pen in the air.

“..... Alright,” she muttered after an uncomfortably long while, scratching something quickly into the pad and stalking off.

I looked at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t think she likes me much, does she?”

“Yeah, she was acting weird, huh?”

I shrugged, and turned to the window. Something was whistling, branches rustling, the sounds dampened by the glass. I hadn’t noticed the wind when we’d hit the restaurant.

“It’s windy.” I was immediately embarrassed by the statement, realizing how dumb I sounded, but I couldn’t stop looking outside.

“Yeah.” I could hear Steve kicking at the table.

The silence was long this time.

“Why aren’t we telling Hopper?” I finally turned to Steve.

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” It was another thing I knew not to press, but the last time someone had told me not to tell someone else what was going on, it hadn't ended well. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” Steve nodded sullenly.

“Okay.”

That was that. The night faded into the wind in my memory, and the queer waitress gave us our food.


End file.
